No.  LXXXVII. 
MODERN     STANDARD     DRAMA 

EDITED  BY  F.  C.  WEMYSS. 


ROB   ROY    IACGREGOR; 

OK, 

"AULD    LANG    SYNE." 
2ln   ©peratic   |Jlag, 


IN      THREE      ACTS.  \ 

BY   1.  VQCO^K.  gfi* 


4  For  why  7    BecadseTme  good  ftjrffcrula 
Sufficeth  them;  \he  simple  plan 

That  they  should  takeN^ho  have  thigpft^r 
And  they  should  keep 


Wordsworth. 


NEW  YORK  : 
WM.  TAYLOR  &  CO. 

(S.    FRENCH,     GENERAL     AGENT,) 
151  Nassau-Street,  cobner  of  Spruce. 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS. 

Cerent  Garden, 


Sir  Frederick  Vernon  . 
Bash/eigh  Osba  distone 
Francis  Osbaldistone  . 
Air.  Owen  .... 
Captain  Thornton  .  . 
Major  Galbraith  .  . 
Bob  Roy  Margregor  ) 
Campbell    .  .  $ 

Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie  .    . 

Dnngal 

MacStuart 

Ai'an 

MaeVittie    .     .         .     . 
Lancie  Wing  field  .     . 

Jobson 

Saunders  Wylie  .     .     . 
Andretc  Fairservice 


1818. 

Mr.  Egcrton. 

«  Abbot 

♦'  Sinclair. 

"  BUnchard. 

"  Connor. 

"  Taylor. 

"  Macready. 

"  Liston. 

"  Tokely. 

•'  Comer. 

"  Norris. 

11  Atkins. 

"  Heath. 

"  Simmons. 

••  Penn. 

-  Treby. 


Willie  . 
Serjeant 
Corporal 
Bam  ish 


Covent  Garden, 

1819. 
Mr.  Goodwin 
"    Gran: 
"     Ryall. 
Suiton. 


Bobert Master  Parsloc. 

Highlanders.  Travelers,  Lennox  Troop- 
ers. English  Soldiers,  $c. 


Diana  Vernon 
Alar t ha  .... 
Mattie     .    . 
Jf-on  Ale  Alpine   . 
Hostess    .     .     .     . 
Katty      .... 
Helen  Afacgregor 


Miss  Stephens. 
'     '•     Green. 
Mrs.  Sterling. 
Miss  Loean. 
Mrs.  Coa'ea. 

"    Bishop. 

"    Egerton. 


Time  in  Representation—  Tu-o  Hours  and  Fifteen  Minutes. 

C O STUM  E S . 

SIR  FREDERICK.— First  dress :  Dark  shape  and  breastplate,  ringlet 
wig,  and  boots.  Second  dress  :  Riding  eloak,  square-cut  coat,  short 
sleeves,  large  cuffs  showing  shirt-sleeves,  and  ruffles,  long  waist- 
coat, flaps  nearly  as  long  as  the  coat  skirt,  trunk  breeches,  boots, 
full  ringlet  wig,  cravat  with  lace  ends,  sword  with  very  broad  belt, 
broad-brimmed  hat  with  flat  feathers,  gauntlets. 

FRANcfsGH'  |  Same  s{y]e>  but  varied  in  color' 
JOBSON"  I  ^a,n  Presses  of  the  same  period,  shoes,  and  buckles. 
CAPTAIN  THORNTON —Red  square  coat  with  lace,  steel  breast- 
plate, broad  sword  belt,  sword,  boots,  ribbons  at  shoulders,  hat  and 

feathers,  gauntlets,  and  large  sash  round  waist. 
MAJOR.— Ibid. 

Soldiers.— Square  red  coats,  long  gaiters. 

MACSTUART.— Full  Highland  military  costume,  red  &  green  plaid. 
ROB  ROY. — First  dress  :  Full-skirted  dark  coat,  long  waistcoat,  belt, 

trunk  breeches,  boots,  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  no  feathers,  overcoat. 

Second  dress:  Full   highland   costume,   red  and  black  plaid,  red 

hair,  deer-skin  shoes  and  buckles,  bonnet,  and  eagle  feather. 
DOUGAL. — First  dress:  Grey  plaid  dress.     Second  dress:   Macgre- 

gor  tartan. 
HELEN. — Dark  woollen  dress,  Macgregor  plaid  scarf,  bonnet  and 

feather,  buff  belt,  pistols  and  claymore,  shield,  d^er-skin  shoes. 
DIANA. — First  dress:    Plaid  silk  open  dress,  high-heeled  shoes  and 

broad  bows,  short  full  sleeves,  lace  ruffles.     Second  dress:  Black 

silk  hooded  mantilla. 
MATTIE. — Woollen  dress,  grey  stockings,  high-heeled  shoes,  plaid 

for  wrapper. 

The  Highlanders,  male  and  female,  in  plain  dresses,  without 

ribbons  or  silks. 

R.  means  Right;    L.  Left;     R.  D.  Right  Door;    L.  D.   Left  Door; 

S.  E.  Second  Entrance ;  TJ.  E.  Upper  Entrance  ;  M.  D.  Middle  Door. 

C.  Centre;    R.  C  Right  of  Centre;    L.  C.  Left  of  Centre. 


ROB   ROY. 


ACT    L 

Scene  I. — T/ie  interior  of  a  Village  Inn. — Travellers  prepa- 
ring to  set  forward  on  their  journey ;  Host  and  Hostess 
attending  them. 

GLEE. 

Soon  the  sun  will  gae  to  rest, 

Let's  awa'  thegither; 
Company  is  aye  the  best, 

Crossing  o'er  the  heather. 

Tak'  each  lad  his  stirrup-cup, 

His  heart  will  feel  the  lighter, 
Tak'  each  lass  a  wee  bit  sup, 

Her  e'e  will  sparkle  brighter. 

Solo.— Bold  Rob  Roy,  the  Southrons  say, 
Is  now  upon  the  border ; 
Should  he  meet  wi'  us  the  day, 
'Twad  breed  a  sad  disorder. 

Chorus.  .  .Soon  the  sun,  &c. 

iZog^_Brawly  sung,  my  maisters,  brawly  sung  !  Il  wish  ye 
a^saje  harae,  l'or  ye  re  am  sakes,  an'  a  quick  return  for  mine^ 
fHere,  w7ie7~gi*g'uur  fiien's  their  stirrup-cup,  while  I  rub  down 
\jie  table. — I  wish  you  a'  gude  e'en,  frien's. 

^ExeiZnz  Travellers,  d  in  ?. 
— Odd  !  there  are  twa  mair  travellers  just  alighting. — Wba'd 
hae  thought  o'  mair  company  at  the  Thistle  an'  Bagpipes  sae 
late  i'  the  day.     But  wha  wi'  Whigs  and  Tories.  Jacobites  an' 
Bob  Roy.  we  in  the  North  here  drive  a  bonny  trade  o't. 


4  ROB    ROY.  [Act.  1 

Enter  Campbell,  dressed  like  a  north-country  grader ;  and 
Mr.  Owen,  in  a  plain,  brown  suit,  boots,  a  tchip,  &c,  shown 
in  by  Wille,  d  in  P. 

Willie.   Travellers  to  ijlasco',  maister. 

Camp.   Landlord,  let  us  have  your  best,  and  quickly  too. 

Host   Troth  will  I.  Sir  ;  ye'll  be  for  a  dram,  nae  doubt,  till 
we  can  toss  up  some  thing  het  for  yer  late  dinner.   [Exit  b  1  e. 
[Owen  places  a  small  saddle-bag  on  the  table,  and  sinks 
into  a  chair,  evidently  greatly  fatigued. 

Owen.  Oh  !  my  poor  bones  !  the  firm  of  my  constitution 
has  been  worse  shaken  than  the  great  house  of  Osbaldistone 
and  Co..  Crane  Alley,  London.  (Host  re-enters  and  places 
liquor  and  glasses  on  the  table.)  Young  man.  have  you  sent 
my  message  to  the  Hall,  hard  by  ?  {Camp>bell  jjours  out,  and 
Ou-en  drinks.) 

Willw.  Aye,  Sir ;  and  the  lassie  will  sune  be  back  wi'  the 
answer.  [Exit  d.  in  f. 

Camp.  Weel,  fellow-traveller,  how  does  our  Scotch  whisky 
agree  with  your  English  stomach  1 

Ou-en.  Thank  you,  Sir  ;  thank  you : — It  cheers  the  body, 
but  it  cannot  raise  the  spirit.  I'm  quite  below  par,  as  we 
say  in  the  city. 

Camp>.   T  ry  it  again,  man. 

Owen.  I  hope  Mr.  Francis  Osbaldistone  will  make  haste; 
— yet  I  have  a  sad  tale  to  tell  him. 

Camj).  Osbaldistone  !  I  know  something  of  that  family, 
Sir,  and  if  there's  anything  I  can  serve  you  in,  you  may  com- 
mand me. 

Owen.  You  are  very  kind,  Sir ; — but  it  is  far  beyond  your 
help. 

Camp.  Perhaps  not.     Will  you  trust  me  with  the  matter  ? 

Owen.  Surely  I  will,  Sir. — The  affairs  of  the  great  com- 
mercial and  banking  house  of  Osbaldistone  and  Co..  Crane 
Alley.  London,  are  no- secret  by  this  time. — All  public  as  the 
Gazette. — That  I  should  live  to  see  it  and  to  say  it!  Oh 
dear  ! 

Camp.  Come,  come,  there's  nought  so  bad  but  what  it) 
may  be  mended.  Let's  hear  the  business  that  brings  you  to 
•-he  Hall. 

Owen.  It's  a  long  account,  Sir  ;  but  I'll  sum  it  up  by  the 
suortest  rules.     You  must  know,  Sir,  my  name  is  Owen.     I 


Scene  I.]  ROB   ROY.  5 

am  head  clerk,  and  junior  partner  of  the  house  of  Osbaldi- 
stone  and  Co  ,  Crane  Alley.  London  ;  and  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  Glasgow,  to  recover  certain  papers  which  have  been  taken 
— stolen,  I'm  afraid — in  the  absence  of  the  head  of  the  firm. 

Camp.   Stolen!   By  whom? 

Owen.  By  his  nephew — Mr.  Kashleigh. 

Camp.  Kashleigh  !  I  know — I  remember — the  son  of  Sir 
Hilderbrand.  late  of  the  Hall  here, 

Owen.  The  same,  Sir.  Sir  Hildebrand  and  the  rest  of  his 
sons  are  taken  up  on  suspicion  of  treasonable  practices.  It's 
an  awful  balance  they  have  to  strike  ! 

Camp.  But  how  happened  it  that  this  son — this  Mr.  Fran- 
cis you  talk  of — was  not  left  in  charge  of  his  father's  affairs, 
rather  than  the  nephew,  Rashleigh  ? 

Owen.  Ah !  Sir.  there  lies  the  mischief.  Mr.  Francis 
loathed  the  counting-house  worse  than  I  loath  a  bankruptcy. 
While  his  father  was  making  money,  he  was  making  poetry  ; 
and  so  his  father,  Sir,  being  astern  man.  said  that  his  nephew 
Kashleigh  should  take  Mr.  Frank's  place;  for  he  would  never 
ask  his  only  child,  a  second  time,  to  be  the  partner  of  his  for- 
tunes and  affections — Oh  dear  ! 

Camp.  Well,  Sir: — but  what  motive  could  induce  this 
Kashleigh  to  betray  a  trust,  which,  for  his  own  interest,  one 
would  naturally  suppose  he  would  be  most  faithful  to  1 

Oicen.  I  suspect,  to  aid  some  political  purpose ;  whereby, 
at  the  expense  of  honor  and  conscience,  he  expects  to  make 
a  larger  percentage  of  worldly  profit.  He  knew  that  to  shake 
the  house  of  Osbaldistone  and  Co.,  Crane  Alley,  London,  was 
to  alarm  the  Government.  The  cash  he  took  was  no  hurt  ; 
but  the  assets — the  assets,  Sir ; — however,  I'll  not  give  them 
up,  for  I  know  Kashleigh  has  come  north. 

Camp,  (aside.)  North,  indeed  !  Umph  !  he's  a  cunning 
chield  that :  he'll  be  too  cunning  for  himself  at  last,  I  fear. — 
A  false  friend,  Mr.  Owen,  never  yet  served  a  good  cause. 

Owen.  You  say  true,  Sir,  such  people  are  as  variable  as 
the  course  of  exchange.  But  when  we  reach  Glasgow,  Sir, 
perhaps  you  can  assist  my  inquiries. 

Camp.  I — I'll  meet  you  there,  Mr.  Owen.  I  just  recol- 
lect a  small  matter  of  business  that  I  have  to  do  in  this 
neigh borhood.-(a&zV/€.) — I  must  go  to  the  Hall — Kashleigh 
has  been  there,  no  doubt :  and  Sir  Frederick  Vernon  may 
wish  to  speak  with  me      I'll  meet  you  at  Glasgow.  Mr.  Owen 


6  Rob   ROi\  Act.  I 

Owen.  Heaven  help  me  !  I  shall  never  live  to  balance  an 
account  there  without  a  companion  or  guide.  1  was  never 
ten  miles  from  Crane  Alley  before  in  all  my  days. 

Camp.  Pho,  man  !  there  in  nothing  to  fear.  Where  shall 
I  hear  of  you  ? 

Owen.  At  Messrs.  MacVittie  and  MacFin's  in  the  Gallow- 
gate,  Sir.  We  have  another  agent,  one  Mr.  Nicol  Jarvie,  in 
the  Salt-market,  but  I  can't  depend  upon  him. 

Camp.  Fare  ye  weel,  Mr.  Owen — Rashleigh  in  the  north  ! 
then  the  heather  will  soon  be  on  fire,  (aside,  and  going  up,) 

Enter  Wille.  d.  p. 

Willie.  Here's  the  Squire  to  speak  wi'  ane  Mr.  Owen. 

Enter  Francis  Osbaldistone,  d.  in  f. — after  he  enters,  Camp- 
bell exits  hastily,  unperceived  by  him. 

Fran.  Owen,  my  excellent  kind  friend  ! 

Owen.  O,  Mr.  Frank  !  0,  Mr.  Osbaldistone !  such  news 
[wiping  his  eyes].  But  why  did  you  never  answer  our  let- 
ters,— mine  and  your  good  father's  ? 

Fran.  Letters  !  I  have  never  yet  received  one  T  have  writ- 
ten repeatedly,  and  have  been  astonished  at  receiving  no  re- 

Owen.  0,  Lord !  no  letters  !  0,  my  stars  '  no  letters  ! — 
then  they  have  been  intercepted.  How  has  your  poor  father 
been  deceived  !  O,  Mr.  Francis,  what  have  you  not  to  an- 
swer for  ?  But  that's  past  now — it's  all  over  I 

Fran.  Good  Heaven  ! — my  father,  he  is  ill — dead  ? 

Owen.  No,  no,  not  so  bad  as  that ;  thank  heaven,  his  day- 
book is  still  open,  but  his  affairs  are  in  worse  confusion  than 
my  poor  brain — 0,  dear  ! 

Fran.  Explain  yourself,  I  beseech  you,  and  in  terms  less 
technical. 

Owen.  Well,  well,  the  sum  total  is, — that  your  cousin 
Rashleigh,  taking  advantage  of  my  good  master's  absence  in 
Holland,  has  absconded  with  papers  of  such  consequence  to 
ourselves  and  the  government,  that  unless  we  can  recover 
them,  or  get  help  from  our  agents  by  a  certain  day,  the  house 
of  Osbaldistone  and  Co.,  Crane  Alley,  London,  is  in  the  bank- 
rupt list  as  sure  as  the  Gazette ! 


Bcexz  I.J  ROB   ROY.  7 

Fran.  Gracious  Heaven !  my  folly  and  disobedience  then 
have  ruined  my  father  !  Tell  me  how  shall  I  redeem  the 
consequence  of  my  error? 

Owen.  Oh,  Mr.  Frank,  you  raise  ray  heart  ten  per  cent,  to 
hear  you  talk  in  that  way.  Repair  to  Glasgow,  and  assist  my 
poor  endeavors.  Though  you  understand  little  I  grieve  to 
say,  of  Debtor  and  Creditor,  you  thoroughly  understand,  I  re- 
joice to  tell  it,  the  great  fundamental  principle  of  all  moral 
accounting — the  great  Ethic  Rule  of  Three  :  let  A  do  to  B  as 
he  would  have  B  do  to  him,  and  the  product  will  give  the  rule 
of  conduct  required. 

Fran.  It  shall,  it  must  be  so ; — this  very  hour  I'll  bid 
adieu  to  the  enchantress,  who  still  must  rule  my  destiny,  and 
seek  this  destroyer,  this  traitor.  Rashleigh  !  Set  forward, 
Owen,  instantly  : — by  the  time  you  have  made  the  necessary 
inquiries  at  Glasgow,  I  shall  be  with  you.  Oh,  Dianna  ! 
must  we  then  part  ? 

Owen.  Diana  !  Ah  love, — love  !  I  thought  so  ; — never 
knew  a  man  open  an  account  with  him,  but  his  affairs  got  into 
confusion.  I  never  had  any  dealings  with  him  in  all  my  life. 
It's  more  dangerous,  Mr.  Francis,  than  meddling  with  contra- 
band goods  But  I've  heard  of  the  consignment — to  Miss 
Diana  Vrernon,  best  affections  ! — Item,  heart ! — Item,  honor  ! 
— Item — Oh,  Mr.  Francis,  look  at  the  per  contra-  -Blank  ! 
— ruin  !   Oh  dear!  [Exitn.  1  f. 

Fran.  Yes,  for  a  while  we  must  separate ;  yet  I  cannot 
cease  to  love — cannot  live  without  her. 


SONG. 

[words  by  burns.] 

Air — "  Low  down  in  the  broom." 

O  my  love's  like  the  red,  red  rose, 

Thai's  newly  sprung  in  June, 
O  mv  love's  like  the  melody, 

Thai's  sweetly  played  in  tune. 
As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonny  lass, 

So  deep  in  love  am  I ; 
And  1  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 

Tho'  a'  the  seas  gang  dry. 


ROB    ROY.  [SCEKB  II. 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 

And  rocks  meli  \vi'  the  sun  ; 
And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 

While  the  sands  of  life  shall  run. 
But  tare  thee  weel.  my  only  love, 

And  tare  thee  weel  awhile  ! 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  love, 

Tho'  'twere  ten  thousand  mile. 

[Exit.  D.  F. 
Scene  J  I. — The  Library  of  Osbaldistone  Hall. 
Enter  StR  Fuin>gfH€re-tmc£  Diana  Vernon,  Martha 


vifr\jR  [c  j  It  is  now  time  we  separate.  Remember, 
Diana,  my  instructions.  -  We  are  surrounded  by  dangers, 
which  wijl  require  all  your  prudence  to  avert.  'Tis  evident, 
your  cousinFrancis  suspects  the  visits  of  a  stranger  to  these 
apartments  ;fc?nd  though  this  dress,  resembling  that  of  your 
ancestor's  portrait,  has  hitherto  enabled  me  to  impose  on  the 
weak  minds  of  the  domestics,  his  penetration  may  discover 
who  and  what  I  ajm,  before  the  plans  are  matured  on  which 
my  hopes  of  futurex^appiness  now  entirely  rest. 

Diana,  [r.]  Rely^on  my  discretion,  Sir — you  may  with 
safety. 

Martha,  [l.,  adiroiciug  with  a  cloak,  resembling  that  of  a 
Catholic  Priest,  and  givbs  it  to  Sir  Frederick']  Iudeed,  Sir 
Frederick — I  beg  pardon^— Father  Vaughan,  I  mean,  your 
reverence  has  nothing  to  fear,  though  you  are  a  Catholic 
and  a  Jacobite.  There  is  not  a  soul  in  the  place,  myself 
excepted,  that  dare  stir  a  foot  towards  this  part  of  the  house 
after  nightfall  ! 

Sir  F.  I  repeat,  it  is  not  from  then\  I  fear  detection  ;  the 
character  I  openly  bear,  of  ConfessoA  to  Miss  Vernon,  is  a 
sufficient  security  :  but  remember.  Diana^Francis  Osbaldistone 
and  his  father  are  firm  adherents  of  the  present  government ; 
and  should  he  discover  me  or  the  purpose  \hich  renders  my 
concealment  in  this  part  of  the  country  necessary,  it  might 
be  fatal  to  the  cause  of  Scotland  and  ourselves. 

Diana.  But  my  cousin  is  a  man  of  honorable  a\id  affec- 
tionate feelings  :  he  would  never  betray  you,  Sir. 


Act  I.  ROB   ROY.  9 


Sir  F.  You  mean  he  would  never  sacrfnce~h1s~ 
person    of  Diana    Vernon.      Subdue    those    reflections,   mj 
child,  for  the  sake  of  your  future  peace  of  mind — annihilate 
them,  while  it  is  yet  in  your  power — think  that  youaredevo<T 
ted  to  a  cloister,  or  the  betrothed  bride  of  Rashleigh  Osbaldi-  J) 
stone.  <\ 

Exit,  at  a  tapestry  pannel,  l.  c.      \ 
Diana.   YoTJ-m^r4ea*eHEHe-fltmr^ittt*tltar7     W  hen  my  cous-    C 
yin  Francis  conjgs^say  I  wish  to  speak  with  him  hem^—^Exit^ 
'■^Mu^tlia^j^^The  bride  of  Rashleigh  !  never,  never  !  any  lot 
rather  than  that — the  convent,  the  jail,  the  grave !     I  must 
act  as  becomes  the  descendant  of  a  noble  ancestry  !     Yet  how 
preferable  is  the  lot  of  those,  whose  birth  and  situation  neither 
renders  them  meanly  dependent,  nor  raises  them  to  the  diffi- 
culties and  dangers  which  too  often  accompany  wealth  and 
grandeur. 

Sonji  intmdMeed. 
Enter   Martha,  introducing  Francis  Osbaldistone,  and 

exit,  l.  1  e. 

Fran.   Diana,  you  sent  for  me. 

Diana,  Yes,  Frank  :  It  was  to  bid  you  farewell.  Suppress 
your  amazement,  while  I  tell  you  that  I  am  acquainted  with 
the  distresses  which  the  treachery  of  Rashleigh  has  brought 
upon  your  father. 

Fran.  How  in  the  name  of  Heaven  !  since  but  within 
these  few  minutes  I  myself  was  informed  ? 

Diana.  Ask  me  no  questions.  I  have  it  not  in  my  power 
to  reply  to  them.  Fate  has  involved  me  in  such  a  series  of 
nets  and  entanglements,  that  I  dare  hardly  speak  a  word,  for 
fear  of  consequences.  You  must  meet  and  obviate  the  diffi- 
culties this  blow  has  occasioned. 

Fran.   And  how  is  that  possible? 

Diana.  Everything  is  possible  to  him  who  possesses  cour- 
age and  activity. 

Fran.  What  do  you  advise  ? 

Diana.  Quit  this  place  instantly  and  for  ever  ! 

Fran.    Diana  ! 

Diana.  You  have  only  one  friend  to  regret,  and  she  has 
long  been  accustomed  to  sacrifice  her  friendships  and  com- 
forts to  the  welfare  of  others  [turning  round,  sees  Sir  Freder- 


10  ROB    ROY.  SCK»S-I.] 

ioh  at  ine  pannel,  who  motions  to  her  angrily.     She  faulters 
— he  disappears  ] 

Fran.   What  alarms  you?   Ha  !   I  thought — 
Diana.   It  is  nothing,  nothing.     Take  Andrew  thegardner 
for  your  guide,  and  repair  instantly  to  Glasgow. 

Fran.  Such  was  my  intention  ;  but  if  Rashleigh  has  really 
formed  the  scheme  of  plundering  his  benefactor  and  disturb- 
ing the  state,  what  prospect  is  there  that  I  can  find  means 
of  frustrating  a  plan  so  deeply  laid? 

Diana,.  Stay — (Yes,  I  will  insist  upon  it).      Do  not  leave 

this  room  till  I  return.  [Exit  r.  1  e. 

Fran.    She  has  then  a    confederate,  a  friend — perhaps  a 

lover !     Every  thiug  confirms  it — the  light  from  these  windows, 

which  I  have  seen  at  unusual  times — the  footsteps  which  I 

.       have  traced  in  the  morning's  dew,  from  the  private  entrance 

NJN-      to  the  apartment  beneath  this  library — the  report  too  of  ap- 

^        paritions  ;    a   thousand   circumstances  tend  to    confirm  my 

V        suspicions.     But  she  comes. 

Re-enter  Dtaxa  Vernon,  with  a  packet,  r.  I  e 


Diana  Frank,  I  trust  you  with  this  proof  of  my  friendship, 
because  I  have  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  your  honor.  If 
I  understand  the  nature  of  this  business  rightly,  the  funds 
in  Rashleigh's  possession  must  be  recovered  by  a  certain  day  ; 
take  this  packet,  but  do  not  open  it  till  all  other  means  fail. 
Ten  days  before  the  bills  are  due,  you  are  at  liberty  to  break 
the  seal. 

Fran.  It  has  no  superscription. 

Diana.  If  3-ou  are  compelled  to  open  it,  you  will  find  di- 
rections inclosed. 

Fran  And  now,  Diana,  after  the  mysterious,  but  kind  inter- 
est you  have  shown  to  my  worldly  cares,  relieve  ray  heart,  by 
explaining — 

Diana.  I  can  explain  nothing.  Oh,  Frank  !  we  are  now 
to  part,  perhaps  never  to  meet  more ;  do  not,  then,  make  my 
mysterious  miseries  embitter  the  last  moments  we  may  pass 
together.  In  the  world,  away  from  me,  you  may  find  a  being 
less  encumbered  by  unhappy  appearances,  less  iniiiiciiced  by 
evil  fortunes,  and  evil  times. 

Fran.  Never,  never  !  the  world  can  afford  me  nothing  to 
repay  the  loss  of  her  I  must  leave  behind  me. 


(SCSSB  lit.  ROB    ROY. 

DUET. 

Air—"  Roifs  wife  of  Aldivalloch" 

^ '  |  Thof7|.eavc{-}„owin  sorrow, 

Smiles  may  light  our  loves  to-morrow. 

Doom'd  to  pari!  my  faithful  heart, 

A  gleam  of  joy  from  Hope  shall  borrow. 

Ah  !  ne'er  forget  when  friends  are  near, 

This  heart  alone  is  thine,  \  £?F  ever* 
'  \  Diana. 

Thou  may'st  find  those  will  love  thee  dear, 
But  not  a  love  like  mine  * 


Diana. 

Tho'  you  leave,  &c. 

Exeunt  Diana  r.  Francis,  l. 


Scene  III. — A  Room  in  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's  Houqe  at 
Glasgow. 

Enter  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie  and  Saunders  "Wylie,  l. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  I  tell  ye,  Saunders,  ye're  daft — 
ye're  mad  !  Osbaldistone  and  Co.  in  danger  !  It's  no'  possi- 
ble. 

Wylie.  It's  very  true,  Bailie  ;  and  I  thought  it  but  right 
to  let  ycu,  my  auld  maister,  ken  o't. 

Bailie.  Troth,  Saunders,  ye've  stunned  me  wi'  the  evil  com- 
munication. Osbaldistone  and  Co.  fail ! — Stop !  My  con- 
science ! — Mattie  !     {calling  of.) 

Wylie.  Maister  Owen,  the  head  clerk,  and  junior  partner, 
has  been  at  our  house  wi'  the  news,  an:  begging  for  time  to 
tak'  up  the  bills. 

Bailie.  Owen  \  I  remember — he's  a  man  o'  figures — 
a  man  o'  calculation ;  an'  if  he  talks  o'  ruin,  by  my  saul, 
it's  no  far  aff ! — But  what  for  did  he  no  ca'  upon  Nicol  Jarvie  ? 
I'm  a  merchant,  an'  a  magistrate,  as  weel  as  MacVitte  ;  but 
he  thinks  nae  mair  o'  me,  I  reckon,  than  o'  an  auld  Scotch 
pedlar. — Mattie  !  Mattie  !  Mattie  ! 

Enter  Mattie,  r. 

-Tell  the  clerk  to  bring  the  ledger. 


1 2  ROB  ROY.  Act  I. 

Mattie.  The  clerk  !  Lord,  Bailie !  he's  safe  in  his  bed 
these  twa  hours. 

Bailie.  A-bed,  the  lazy  blackguard  !  Then  fetch  it  yoursel, 
Mattie. 

Mattie.  I'se  do  your  bidding,  Bailie.  [Exit  it. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  1  I  havena  had  sican  a  shock,  since 
my  worthy  faither,  the  Deacon,  (peace  be  wi'  him)  left  me  to 
fetch  my  way  alane  in  this  wicked  warld.  But  what  says 
MacVittie  ?     Will  he  grant  the  time  ? 

Wylie.  No  a  day,  Mr.  Jarvie  ; — no  an  hour.  Things  look 
sae  bad,  I  fear  my  employers  mean  to  resort  to  the  severest 
measures.  I  heard  them  talk  o'  arresting  Maister  Owen  i 
so  you  had  best  look  to  yoursel. 

Enter  Mattie  with  the  ledger,  r. 

Bailie.  Look  to  mysel !  let  me  look  at  the  ledger  first 
{putting  on  his  spectacles,  and  opening  it  eagerly.)  L — M 
N — 0 — Os — Osbal — as  I'm  a  Bailie,  the  balance  maun  be 
enormous — but  I  havena  the  heart  to  run  it  up  now  (^returning 
the  ledger  to  Mattie).  How  muckle  is  MacVittie  in  wi'  him, 
Saunders  ? 

Wylie.  I  canna  justly  say,  Bailie  ;  but  some  hundreds. 

Bailie.  Hundreds  !  only  hundreds  !  Damn  their  supple 
snouts  !  And  would  they  press  a  fa'ing  man  for  the  sake  o' 
hundreds, — they  that  hae  made  thousands  by  him  ?  Your 
maisters,  Saunders  Wylie,  hae  ta'en  mony  a  gude  fat  job  frae 
between  my  teeth ;  but  I'll  snap  them  this  turn — I'll  snap 
them  this  turn  ! 

Wylie.  I  wish  you  could,  Bailie — I  wish  you  could.  Ah  ! 
I  made  a  sair  change  when  I  left  you  to  serve  twa  sic  infer- 
nal— 

Bailie.  Whisht !  Saunders,  whisht !  while  you  eat  their 
bread,  dinna  abuse  the  damn'd  scoundrels  ahint  their  backs. 

Wylie.  Ye've  a  kind  heart,  Mr.  Jarvie,  and  an  honest  ane 
too.. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  so  had  my  worthy  faither  the  Dea- 
con. Saunders  : — rest  and  bless  him  ! 

Wylie.  Wad  ye  be  pleased  to  consult  on  this  business  wi' 
our  partners,  Sir  ? 

Bailie.  No ;  I'll  see  them  baith  damn'd  first. — My  con- 
science ! — that  is,  a  man  that  meddles  wi'  pitch  is  sure  to  be 
defiled.     I'd  sooner  haud  a  parley  wi'  Auld  Clootie  ! — Xa 


Scene  III.]  ROB  ROY.  13 

na  :  Nicol  Jarvie  has  a  way  o'  his  ain  to  manage  this  mat- 
ter.— Gang  your  ways,  Mattie,  wi'  that  huge  memorial  o'  mis- 
fortunes, and  bring  my  walking  gear,  an' the  lantern.  {Exit 
Mattie,  r.) — As  for  you,  Saunders,  speed  ye  hame  again,  an' 
no  a  word  that  ye  hae  seen  me  !  (Exit  Wylie,  l.) — Osbal- 
distone  and  Co.  stop  !  My  conscience  ! — I'd  sooner  hae 
dreamed  o'  the  down  fa'  o'  the  Bank  of  Lunnon  ! — Why  it's 
enough  to  gar  the  very  hair  o'  my  wig  rise,  an'  stand  on  end  ! 
— But  the  distress  cannot  be  permanent.  At  ony  rate  I'se 
prove  mysel  a  friend,  and  if  the  house  regains  its  credit,  I 
shall  recover  my  loss, — and  if  no,  why  I  hae  done  as  I  would 
be  done  by.  like  my  worthy  faither  the  Deacon,  gude  man ! 
— blessing^on  his  memory,  say  I,  that  taught  me  gude-will 
towards  my  fellow-creatures  ! 

Enter,.  Mattie.  r..  decked  out  for  walking — lie)'  apron  pinned 
up,  Sfc.  and  bearing  the  Bailie's  tartan  cloak,  hat,  lantern,  SfC. 

Mattie.  I've  brought  your  gear,  Sir  ;  but,  gude  safe  us  ! 
whar  wad  ye  be  ganging  to,  at  such  a  time  o'  night  Ij  (she 
helps  him  on  with  his  dress.) 

Bailie.  Ye'll  sune  ken  that,  Mattie,  for  ye  maun  e!en  tramp 
alang  wi'  me. — I  wadna  like  to  be  breaking  my  shins  in  the 
dark  jusrnow ;  for,  truth  to  speak,  I  had  never  mair  occasion 
to  stanu  firm  on. .my  legs,  baith  at -hame  and  abroad — .Now, 
gie  us  the  beaver,  lassie.  ^ 

Mattie.  Weel  !  to  think  o'  putting  on  claithes^when  ye 
suld  be  taking  'em  aff,  an'  scampering  abroad,  when  ye  suld 
be  ganging  to  your  bed  ! 

Bailie.  Time  and  tide  wait  for  nae  man,  Mattie. 

Mattie.  But  whar  are  ye  ganging  to,  Bailie  ? 

Bailie.   To  mony  places  that  I'd  as  lief  bide  away  frae. 

Mattie.  Now  wrap  this  'kerchief  about  your  thrapple.  (ties 
a  handkerchief  round  his  neck.) 

Bailie.   Ye're  a  kind-hearted  lassie,  Mattie. 

Mattie.   There^ — leave  a  wee  bit  room  for  your  mou'. 

Bailie,  (aside)  I  wonder  what  she's  gaun  to  dae  wi'  my 
mou'.    (stroking  Ids  chin.) 

Mattie.  (giving  him  a  flask)  Ye  maun  needs  hae  a  drap 
o'  the  cordial  your  faither,  the  Deacon,  was  sae  fond  o' : — he 
aye  liked  to  sip  the  cordial. 

Bailie.  Rest  and  bless  him  !  sae  he  did  ;  and  sae  do  I  too, 
Mattie.    (drinks)     You're  a  gude- tempered  saul,  Mattie,  and 


14 


ROB     ROY. 


[Act.  I. 


a  bonnie  lass  too.  Ye're  come  o'  glide  kith  and  kin.  Mattie 
— the  Laird  o'  Limmerfield's  cousin — only  seven  times  re- 
moved. (Mattie  is  moving  away  the  bottle)  Stay — you  may 
bring  the  bottle  wi'  you,  Mattie,  and  tuck  yoursel'  under  my  arm 
— there's  nae  disgrace  in  a  Bailie  walking  hand  in  arm  wi'  ane 
o'  gentle  bluid — Sae,  come  your  ways,  Mattie. — Osbaldistone 
and  Co. — Stop  !  My  conscience  !  [Exeunt  l. 

SCENE  IV  —  The  old  Bridge  of  Glasgoic. 

ititer  Fran.  Osbaldistone  and  AK©Ri^v¥-^U«c^rRTT»Gri.u.E. 

;ud6  guidance  o' 
AndfceV<  he*e  ve  are  inUlasf&w,  sprte  o'  the iD>gles  aitd^ad 
ways. 


Miss  Vernor 
ield  like  mys* 

[Exit.   L.U.E. 

Fran.  'Tis  now  too  late  to  learn  tidings  of  poor  Owen,  or 
inquire  the  residence  of  my  father's  agents.  Bitter  reflection  ! 
All  this  I  might  have  prevented  by  a  trifling  sacrifice  of  the 
foolish  pride  and  indolence  which  recoiled  from  sharing  the 
labors  of  his  honorable  profession. 

Enter  Campbell,  r.  u.  e. 

Camp,  (c.)   Mr.  Osbaldistone,  you  are  in  danger. 
Fra?/.  (lc.)   From  whom?  (starting.) 
Camp.   Follow  me,  and  you  shall  know. 
Fran.   I  must  first  know  your  name  and  purpose. 
Camp.  I  am  a  man,  and  my  purpose  is  friendly. 
Fran.   That  is  too  brief  a  description. 
Ca?np.   It  will  serve  for  him  wbo  has  no  other  to  give.     He 
that  is  without  a  name,  without  friends,  without  coin,  and 


SCEKK  IV.]  HOB    ROY.  15 

without  country,  is  at  least  a  man  ;  and  he  that  has  all  these, 
is  no  more.  Follow  me,  or  remain  without  the  information 
which  I  wish  to  afford  you. 

Fran.   Can  you  not  give  it  me  here  1 

Camp.  No ;  you  must  receive  it  from  your  own  eyes,  not 
from  my  mouth.     What  is  it  you  fear1? 

Fran.  I  fear  nothing ; — walk  on,  I  attend  you. 

Camp.  Yet  if  you  knew  who  was  by  your  side,  you  might 
feel  a  tremor. 

Fran.  The  spirit  of  Rashleigh  seems  to  hover  round  me; 
— yet  'tis  neither  his  form  nor  voice,  (aside.) 

Camp.  Would  you  not  fear  the  consequences  of  being 
found  with  him  whose  very  name,  whispered  in  this  lonely 
street,  would  make  the  stones  themselves  rise  up  to  appre- 
hend him  ? — on  whose  head  the  men  of  Glasgow  would  build 
their  fortunes,  as  on  a  found  treasure  ! — the  sound  of  whose 
downfall  were  as  welcome  at  the  Cross  of  Edinburgh,  as  the 
news  of  a  battle  fought  and  won  ! 

Fran.  Who  are  you  then,  whose  name  should  create  such 
terror  V 

Camp.  No  enemy  of  yours,  since  I  am  conveying  you  to  a 
place,  where,  if  I  myself  were  recognized  and  identified,  iron 
to  the  heels,  and  hemp  to  the  throat,  would  be  my  brief 
dooming. 

Fran.  You  have  said  either  too  much  or  too  little,  to  in- 
duce me  to  confide  in  you.  {Campbell  makes  a  step  toivards 
him  ;  he  draws  back  and  lays  his  hand  on  his  sword. ) 

Camp.   What  !  on  an  unarmed  man,  and  your  friend  ? 

Fran.  I  am  yet  ignorant  if  you  are  either  one  or  the  other. 

Camp.  Well,  I  respect  him  whose  hand  can  keep  his  head 
— I  love  a  free  young  blood,  that  knows  no  protection  but 
the  cross  of  the  sword  !  I  am  taking  you  to  see  one,  whom 
you  will  be  right  glad  to  see,  and  from  whose  lips  you  will 
learn  the  secret  of  the  danger  in  which  you  stand.  Come  on  ! 
Exit  Campbell.  Francis  following  cautiously,  r. 

SCENE  Y.—Hall  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Glasgow. 
( Knocking  without. ) 

Enter  Dougal,  l  — He  lias  a  shock  head  of  red  hair,  and  an 
extraordinary  appearance ;  a  huge  bundle  of  keys  at 
his  belt,  and  a  lamp  in  his  hand  ;  listens  and  speaks. 

Doug,  (r  )  Fat's  tat  1 


16  ROB    ROY.  [ActI- 

Camp,  (ivithoiit)  Gregarach  !  (Dougal  runs  out  in  haste, 
and  re-enters  joyfully,  bringing  on  Campbell  and  Francis 
Osbaldistone,  r.  1  e.     Doug.il,  you  have  not  forgotten  me? 

Doug.  Och.  te'il  a  pit  !  te'il  a  pit!  whar'll  she  gang?  fat 
will  she  do  for  jou?   Oigh,  it's  lang  sin  she  wudna  saa't  ye. 

Fran,  She  !  she  seen  him  !  It  is  then  a  female  to  whom 
I  am  conducted  ?  or  is  it  merely  the  dialect  of  his  country, 
in  which  that  animal  expresses  himself?  (as  he  says  this  apart, 
Campbell  speaks  to  Dougal  and  points  to  him. ) 

Doug.  To  be  sure  she  wull,  wi'  aw  her  heart,  wi  aw  her 
soul !  riut  fat  wull  cum  o'  ye,  if  the  Bailies  should  cum,  or 
the  captian  should  wakens  ? 

Camp  Fear  nothing,  Dougal ;  your  hands  shall  never 
draw  a  bolt  upon  me. 

Doug.  Och,  te'il  a  pit !  te'il  a  pit !  She  would  hack  am 
bait  aft*  at  elbuck  first. 

Camp.   Then,  dispatch. 

Dot/g.  Wi'  aw  my  heart,  wi'  aw  my  soul  !  (1w  trims  his 
lamp,  and  beckons  Francis,  who  perceiving  Campbell  does  not 
folloio,  pauses. ) 

Fran.  Do  you  not  go  with  us  ? 

Camp  It  is  unnecessary  ;  my  company  might  be  inconve- 
nient. I  had  better  remain,  and  secure  our  retreat.  Lose 
no  time.  [Exit.  r. 

Francis  seems  at  a  loss  what  to  do — Dougal  impatient. 

Doug.   Fuith  !  fuifch  !  come  awa,  man.     Droch-coil  ortsa  ! 

{Exeunt  l. 

SCENE  Yl.—A  Cell  in  the  Tolbooth.  A  pallet-bed,  with 
0  wen  reposing  on  it.  b.  A  small  table  and  chair.  Dougal 
opens  the  door  in  flat.,  l.  c.  and  advances,  followed  by 
Francis  Osbaldistone. 

Fran,  (l.)  I  cannot  suppose  he  means  to  betray  me  ;  yet 
'tis  strange — 

Doug,   (having  looked  towards  the  bed)    She's  sleepin'. 

Fran.  She  ! — who? 

Doug.     Shentleman's  to  spoken  wi'  her.    (shaking  Owen.) 

Owen,  (r.)  Ej,  what!  Oh  dear  !  (pops  his  head,  adorned 
with  a  red  night-cap.  from  beneath  the  clothes,  just  as  Frarwis 
has  eagerly  advanced.) 

Fran.   Owen  !    (pausing  in  surprise.) 

Owen.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.    Dugwell.  or   Hugwell.  or 


Scene.  VI.  R0B   ROY.  17 

whatever  your  name  may  be,  if  my  natural  rest  is  to  be  bro- 
ken in  upon  in  this  manner,  the  sum  total  of  the  amount  is 
this,  I'll  complain  to  the  Lord  Mayor. 

Doug.   Ugh — cha  neil  Sassenach.        [Exit  d.f.l.h. 

Fran.   Owen  ! 

Owen.  Ey  ! — Oh  dear!  have  they  caught  you  too  1  then 
our  last  hope  fails,  and  the  account  is  closed. 

Fran.  Do  not  be  so  much  alarmed  ;  all  may  not  be  so  bad 
as  you  expect. 

Owen,  (rises  and  advances)  0  Mr.  Frank,  we  are  gone  I 
Osbaldistone  and  Co.,  Crane  Alley,  London,  is  no  longer  a 
firm.  I  think  nothing  of  myself — I  am  a  mere  cipher  :  but 
you  that  were  your  father's  sum-total,  as  I  may  say. — his 
omnium — that  might  have  been  the  first  man  in  the  first  house 
in  the  first  city,  to  be  shut  up  in  a  nasty  Scotch  jail — a  Hol- 
booth  I  think  they  call  it — Oh  dear  ! 

Fran.  I  am  no  prisoner,  my  good  friend,  though  I  can 
scarcely  account  for  my  being  in  such  a  place  at  such  a  time. 

Owen.  No  prisoner  !  Heaven  be  praised  ! — But  what  news 
this  will  be  upon  'Change. 

Fran.  Cease  these  lamentations,  and  let  me  know  the  cause 
of  your  being  here. 

Owen.  It's  soon  told,  Mr.  Frank.  When  I  disclosed  my 
business  to  Messrs.  MacVittie  and  Mc  Fin,  instead  of  instant 
assistance,  they  demanded  instant  security ;  and,  as  I  am  lia- 
ble, being  a  small  partner  in  our  house,  they  made  oath  that 
I  meditated  departing  this  realm,,  and  had  recourse  to  a  sum- 
mary process  of  arrest  and  imprisonment,  which  it  seems  the 
law  here  allows,  and — here  1  am — Oh  dear  I 

Fran.  Why  did  you  not  apply  to  our  other  correspondent, 
Mr.  Nicol  Jarvie? 

Owen.  What !  the  cross-grained  crab-stick  in  the  Salt-mar- 
ket 1  'Twould  have  been  of  no  use.  You  might  as  well  ask 
a  broker  to  give  up  his  per  centage,  as  expect  a  favor  from 
him  without  the  per  contra.  0,  Mr.  Frank  !  this  is  all  your 
doing  !  But  I  beg  your  pardon  for  saying  so  to  you  in  your 
distress. 

Enter  Campbell  and  Dougal.  hastily,  d.f. 

Doug,  {running  about)  Och  hone  a  rie — Och  hone  a  rie  ! 
what'll  she  do  now  %  It's  my  Lord  Provost,  an'  Bailies,  an' 
Town  Guard  !     Hide  yoursel'  ahint  te  bed.   (to  Campbell ) 


J 8  ROB    ROY.  [Act.  I. 

Fuiths.  fuiths,  man,  ye  niaun  gang,  for  te  Captain  has  opened 
the  wicket. 

Camp.  Lend  me  your  pistols  : — yet  it's  no  matter,  I  can 
do  without  them  ;  whatever  you  see,  take  no  heed — do  not 
mix  your  hand  in  another  man's  quarrel.  (To  Fran.) — I 
must  manage  as  I  can.     (Seats  himself  on  tlw  table.) 

[Exit  Dottgal,  d.f. 

Enter  Mattie, >  followed  by  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie,  d.f. 

Bailie,  (looking  back)  I'll  ca'  when  I  want  ye,  Stanchells. 
— Dougal  shall  make  a'  fast,  or  I'll  make  him  fast,  the  scoun- 
drel !  A  bonnie  thing,  and  beseeming,  that  I  should  be  kept 
at  the  door  half  an  hour,  knocking  as  hard  to  get  into  jail,  as 
ony  body  else  would  be  to  get  out  o'nt ! — How's  this  ?  (see- 
ing Campbell  anal  Frank.)  Strangers  in  the  Tolbooth  after 
lock-up  hours  !  Keep  the  door  lockit,  you  Dougal  Creature  ; 
— I'll  sune  talk  to  these  gentlemen  ;  but  I  maun  first  hae  a 
crack  wi'  au  auld  acquaintance. — Ah  !  Mr.  Owen  !  how's  a' 
wi'  ye,  Mr.  Owen  ? 

Owen  Pretty  well  in  body,  Mr.  Jarvie,  I  thank  you,  but 
sore  afflicted  in  spirit. 

Bailie.  Ay,  ay,  we're  a'  subject  to  downfa's,  Mr.  Owen,  as 
my  worthy  faither,  the  Deacon — rest  and  bless  him  ! — used  to 
say. — •'  Nick,"  said  he  (ye  maun  ken  his  name  was  Nicol.  as 
well  as  mine  ;  so  the  folks  in  their  daffin  used  to  ca'  us  Young 
Nick  and  Auld  Nick  !)  ':  Young  Nick,"  said  he.  "  never  put 
out  your  arm  ony  farther  than  you  can  draw  it  easily  back 
again." 

Owen.  You  need  not  have  called  these  things  to  my  me- 
mory, in  such  a  situation,  Mr.  Nico!  Jarvie. 

Bailie.  What !  do  you  think  I  cam  out  at  sic  a  time  o' 
night,  to  tell  a  fa'ing  man  of  his  backslidings  ? — My  con- 
science ! — No.  no — that's  no  Bailie  Jarvie's  way.  nor  his  wor- 
thy faither's  the  Deacon — rest  and  bless  him  ! — afore  him.  I 
sune  discovered  what  lodgings  your  friends  had  provided  you, 
Mr  Owen  ; — but  gie  us  your  list,  man,  and  let  us  see  how 
things  stand  between  us,  while  I  rest  my  shanks.  Mattie 
hauld  the  lantern,  (taking papers from  Owen,  and  sitting  at 
tlte  corner  of  the  bed,  Dougal  enters  cautiously  at  the  door — 
beckons  Campbell,  and  expresses  anxiety  to  get  him  off.) 

Bailie.   Eh  !  what's  that  ye're  about,  Sir  1 

D  nig.   Oich  !  dit  ye  mak  a  spok  for  me  ? 


Set*-*;  vt.J  rob  aoy  19 

Camp.  Say  nothing,  {in  a  low  tone,  approaching  the 
door. ) 

Bailie  Eh  !  look  to  the  door  there,  you  Dougal  Creature  : 
—let  me  hear  you  lock  it,  and  keep  watch  on  the  outside. — 
{Dougal  retires,  and  bars  the  door,  but  instantly  undoes  it 
again  ;  and  peeps  on,  expressing  to  Campbell  that  his  retreat 
is  open — Campbell  observing  this,  swaggers  round  the  stage 
and  then  seats  himself  on  the  table,  l.c.) — That's  a  deevilish 
queer  chiel',  he  seems  unco  near  his  ain  fireside.  Sit  still, 
Sir,  and  I'll  talk  to  you  by  and  bye. 

Owen.  There,.  Sir,  you'll  find  the  balance  in  the  wrong 
column — for  us — but  you'll  please  to  consider — 

Bailie.  There's  nae  time  to  consider,  Mr.  Owen — It's 
plain  you  owe  me  siller  ; — but  I  canna,  for  the  saul  o'  me, 
see  how  you'll  clear  it  aff  by  snoring  here  in  the  Tolbooth  ! 
Now,  Sir,  if  you'll  pomise  no  to  flee  the  country,  you  shall 
be  at  liberty  in  the  morning. 

Owen    0,  Sir  !  0,  Mr.  Jarvie ! 

Bailie.  I'm  a  carefu'  man  as  ony  in  the  Sautmarket,  and 
I'm  a  prudent  man.  as  my  worthy  faither  the  deacon,  good 
soul  !  was  before  me  ;  but  rather  than  that  double-faced  dog, 
MacVittie,  shall  keep  an  honest  civil  gentleman  by  the  heels, 
I'se  be  your  bail  myseF — (  Oivengoes  up)  to  him  in  raptures,  but 
fails  in  his  attempt  to  speak. ) — T  here,  you've  said  eneugh.  But, 
in  the  name  o'  misrule,  how  got  ye  companions  ? — Gie  me  the 
light,  Mattie.  [lie  catches  it  from  her,  and  holding  it  towards 
Camjibell,  who  is  calmly  seated  on  the  table  and  ivhistles  in  his 
face,  starts  bad:.]  Ey  !  My  conscience  ! — It's  impossible  ! — 
and  yet  I'm  clean  bambaized. — Why  you  robber  !  you  cate 
ran  ! — you  cheat-the-gallow:s  rogue  !  s 

Owen,  (.ft.)  Bless  me  !  It's  my  good  friend,  Mr. Campbell ; 
a  very  honest  man.  Mr.  Jarv — 

Bailie,  (c  )  Honest !  My  conscience  !  You  in  the  Glas- 
gow Tolbooth  ! — What  d'ye  think's  the  value  o'  your  head  ? 

Camp.  Umph  !  why,  fairly  weighed,  and  Dutch  weight — 
one  Provost,  four  Bailies,  a  Town-clerk,  and  sax  Deacons. 

Bailie.  Sax  Deacons!  Was  there  ever  sic  a  born  devil? 
But  tell  owre  your  sins,  Sir  ;  for  if  I  but  say  the  word — 

Camp.  True,  Bailie,  but  you  never  will  say  that  word. 

Bailie.  And  what  for  no,  Sir?  What  for  no  % 

Camp.  For  three  sufficient  reasons,  Bailie  Jarvie  : — First, 
for  auld  langsyne  : 


20  HOB    ROY.  [Act.  I. 

Bailie,   (softening)  Ay,  Rab  !   (slmkes  his  hand.) 

Camp.  Secondly,  for  the  good  wife  ayont  the  fire,  that  made 
some  mixture  of  our  bloods — 

Bailie.  Weel,  Rab  ? 

Camp.  And  third  and  lastly,  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie — 

Bailie.   Ay,  Rab  1 

Camp.  Because,  if  I  saw  any  sign  of  your  betraying  me, 
I'd  plaister  that  wall  with  your  brains,  ere  the  hand  of  man 
could  rescue  you.  [Owen  in,  great  consternation  runs  to  tlic 
bed.) 

Bailie  My  conscience  !  Weel,  weel,  Rab  !  it  would  be 
quite  as  unpleasant  for  me  to  hae  my  hrad  knocked  about,  as 
it  would  be  discreditable  to  string  up  a  kinsman  in  a  hempen 
cravat ;  but  if  it  hadna  been  yoursel',  Rab,  I'd  hae  gripped 
the  best  man  in  the  Highlands. 

Camp.  You'd  have  tried,  Bailie  Jarvie — you'd  have  tried, 
Bailie. 

Bailie.  Ay,  J  wad  hae  tried.  Bailie  ;  but  wha  the  deevil's 
this?   (to  Francis.]  Anither  honest  man,  I  reckon, 

Owen.  This,  good  Sir,  is  Mr.  Francis  Osbaldistone. 

Bailie.  0,  I've  heard  o'  this  spark: — run  away  frae  his 
faither.  in  pure  dislike  to  the  labour  an  honest  man  should 
live  by. — Wee].  Sir,  what  do  you  say  to  your  handywork  ? 

Fran  (r.)  My  dislike  to  the  commercial  profession,  Mr. 
Jarvie,  is  a  feeling  of  which  I  am  the  best,  and  sole  judge. 

Chven    Oh  dear  ! 

Camp,  (l.)  It's  manfully  spoken  ;  and  I  honor  the  lad  for 
his  contempt  of  weavers  and  spinners,  and  all  such  mechani- 
cal persons  — (Owen goes  to  bed  again.) 

Bailie.  Weavers  and  spinners,  indeed  !  I'm  a  weaver  and 
spinner,  and  wha's  better  't  Will  a:  your  ancestry  tell  whar 
Rashleigh  is,  or  a'  your  deep  oaths  and  drawn  dirks  procure 
Mr.  Frank  five  thousand  pounds  to  answer  the  bills,  which  fa' 
due  in  ten  days  ? 

Fran.  Ten  days  !  Is  the  time  so  near  !  I  may  then  have 
recourse—  (Draws  out  the  letter,  opens  it,  and  an  enclosure 
falls  from  the  letter  : — the  Bailie  catches  it  up.) 
Bailie.   My  conscience  !    (reads)  for  Rob  Roy  ! 
Fran,   (r.)    Rob  Roy!  (Campbell  instant///  snatches  the 
letter.  ) 

Bailie,  (c.)  Weel,  here's  a  wind  blawn  a  letter  to  its  right 
owner;  but,  as  I'm  a  Bailie,  there  were  ten  thousand  chan- 
ces to  ane  against  its  coming  to  hand,   (going  tip.) 


Scene.  VI.  R0B   R0Y.  21 

Fran,  (c.)  You  are  too  hasty,  Sir;  I  was  not  in  this  in- 
stance, desirous  of  your  interference. 

Camp,  (lc.)  Make  yourself  easy,  Sir ;  Diana  Vernon 
has  more  friends  than  you  are  aware  of.      {reads  to  himself.) 

Fran,  {aside.)  Is  it  possible?  Is  the  fate  of  a  being  so 
amiable,  involved  in  that  of  a  man  of  such  desperate  fortunes 
and  character? 

Camjj.  (aftc  reading)  So.  Rashleigh  has  sent  these  pa- 
pers to  the  Highlands.  It's  a  hazardous  game  she  has  given 
me  to  play,  but  I'll  not  baulk  her.  Mr.  Osbaldistone,  you 
must  visit  me  in  the  glens  ;  and,  cousin,  if  you  dare  show  him 
the  way — 

Bav'ie.  (c.)  Catch  me  ! 

Camp.  And  eat  a  leg  of  red-deer  venison  with  me — 

Bailie,   {coolly.)   Na,  thank  ye,  Hab. 

Camp.  I'll  pay  you  the  two  hundred  pounds  I  owe  you  ; 
and  you  can  leave  Mr.  Owen  the  while,  to  do  the  best  he  can 
in  Glasgow. 

Bailie  Say  nae  mair,  Rab, — say  nae  mair.  I'll  gang  wi' 
you :  but  you  maun  guarantee  me  safe  hame  again  to  the 
Sautmarket. 

Camp.  There's  my  thumb,  I'll  ne'er  beguile  you. — But  I 
must  be  going. — The  air  of  Glasgow  Tolbooth  is  not  over 
wholesome  for  a  Highlander's  constitution. 

Bai  ie.  Noo,  to  thiok  that  I  should  be  aiding  and  abetting 
an  escape  frae  justice !  It'il  be  a  disgrace  to  me  and  mine, 
and  the  memory  o'  my  worthy  faither  the  Deacon, — rest  and 
bless  him  ! — for  ever. 

Camp.  Hout,  tout,  man  !  when  the  dirt's  dry  it  will  rub 
out  again.  Your  faither  could  look  over  a  friend's  faults,  and 
why  not  your  faither's  son  ? 

Bailie.  So  he  could,  Robin  ;  so  he  could  . — he  was  a  gude 
man -the  Deacon.     Ye  mind  him,  Rab,  dinna  ye? 

Camp.  Troth,  do  I — he  was  a  weaver,  and  wrought  my 
first  pair  of  hose. 

Bailie.  Tak  care  his  son  doesna  weave  your  last  cravat. 
Ye've  a  lang  craig  for  a  gibbet,  Rab — but  whar's  that  Dougal 
creature  ? 

Camp.  If  he  is  the  lad  I  think  him,  he  has  not  waited 
your  thanks  for  his  share  of  this  night's  work. 

Bailie.  What !  gane  !  and  left  me  and  Mattie  locked  up 
in  jail  for  a1  night  !  I'll  hang  the  Hieland  deevil  as  high  as 
Hainan. 


22  ROB   ROY.  t  [Act  I- 

Camp.  When  you  catch  hira,  Bailie  Jarvie— when  you 
catch  hira.  (Mat tie  tries  tlie  door  andyiinds  it  open.)  But 
see — he  knew  an  open  door  would  serve  me  at  a  pineh.  Conic, 
Bailie,  speak  the  pass-word. 

Bailie.  Stauchells.  let  this  stranger  <ftit — he — he's — 

Camp.  What? 

Bailie.  He's  a  friend  o'  mine.  My  conscience  !  an'  a  bon- 
ny friend  he  is. 

Camp.  Fare  ye  weel !  Be  early  withFme  at  Aberfoil 

11  Now,  open  your  gates,  and  let  rri&  go  free, 
I  darena  stay  longer  in  bonny  Dundee.7* 

[Exit  D.F.L. 

Bailie.  So  that  Dougal  creature  w^s  an  agent  o'  Rab's ! 
I  shouldna  wonder  if  he  has  ane  in  ifcka  jail  in  Scotland — ■ 
(whistling  without.)  Do  ye  hear  the*Hieland  deevils  whist- 
ling, without  ony  regard  for  Sunday  or  Saturday  ?  I  fancy 
they  think  themsel's  on  the  tap  o'  Ben  Lomoud  already. 
Weel.  I  hae  done  things,  this  blessed  night,  that  my  worthy 
faither  the  Deacon,  rest  and  bless  him  j!  wadna  have  believed. 
— But  ther's  balm  in  Grilead. — (going  >  to  the  bed-side.)  Mr. 
Owen,  I  hope  to  see  you  at  breakfast  in* the  morning. — (  Owen 
snores  )     Eh  !  why  the  man's  fast.       j 

Fran.  And  the  sooner  we  depart,  and  follow  his  example. 
Sir,  the  better ;  for  it  must  be  near  midnight — 

Bailie.  Midnight !  Weel.  Mattie  shall  light  ye  hame. — 
(Francis  takes  Mattie  under  his  arm  ;  tlie  Bailie  gently  dis- 
engages her  from  him.) — Nane  o'  your  Lunon  tricks  here, 
my  man  !  Mattie's  a  decent  lassie,  and  come  o'  gude  kith 
and  kin — the  Laird  o'  Limmerfield's  cousin — only  seven  times 
removed.  Now  that  I  look  at  you  again,  my  fine  young  spark. 
I'se  see  ye  hame  mysel'.  (St.  j\Iungo'c  cIolI  hlril^Jwelve, 
enter  two  Goalers /or  chorus  ) 


,E. 


Fran.        Hark  !  hark  !  now/from  St.  Mungo's  tower. 

The  bell  proclaim^  the  midnight  hour,  Borne  ! 

Matt.  And  thro'  the  chfy,  far  and  near. 

From  spire  and/turret  now  I  hear.  Borne  ! 


Both. 

Owen. 
Bail, 


LOB    ROY. 

Ere  yet  the  first  vibration  dies, 
Each  iron  tongue  of  tinie  replies, 


(snores.)  Augh! 

Hark  !  hark  !  from  Mister  Owen's  nose, 
A  cadence  deef!  a  dying  close, 


Owen,    -(snores..)*^ 
Fran.  (  Ere -yet,. &c. 


Augh 


Matt.  <$- 
Bail. 

Owen. 


Fran. 
Bail.  # 
Matt. 

Owen  ($~ 
Stanch. 


yet  the  fi  'st  vibration  dies, 
5  nasal  org  an  quick  replies, 


(snores.) 

Bless  me  !  ev'r 
I  did  not  drea 

But  snug  in  s 
And  Stocks 


23 

Borne  I 

Borne! 
Borne! 


Augh !     (wakes.) 

;  way  I  am  undone, 
n  of  being  here  ; 
'  t  Crane  Alley,  London, 
re  up,  and  1,— oh  dear  ! 

ALL. 


Home,  home,  <  ^e  i  must  no  longer  stay 


(^Farewell  at  (  nee — at  once  good  night. 
[Retiring  up,las  drop  descends. — Owen  gets  into  bed. 


END    OF    ACT 


; 


24  rob  ROY.  [Act  II. 

ACT  II.  ^2^2^; 

Scene  I. — The  College,  Gardens  of  Glasgow  and    View  of 
the  Spire  of  St.  Mungo.  tfj     ^p 

\t-er  Rashleigii  OsBALDisn^eTtftTE., ^wwd  Jobson  ^rathST- 
\h\nd  l tun.  waning  hiiS  'nisi  ructions ; — lie  walks  rapidly, 
'turns  and  pauses. 

Rash.     Galbraith  and  MacStuart  are  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Aberfoil.     Good  !     When  did  Captain  Thornton  march  1 

Job      Yesterday  morning,  Sir. 
lash.     Umph  •     You  are  certain  that  order  for  the  arrest 
of  ]those  two  persons  I  described  was  given  to  him  ? 

lob.     I  delivered  it  myself  into  his  hands,  Sir. 

Rash,      l^ou  committed  Mr.  Owen  to  prison,  you  say  : — 
is  he  there  now  ? 

Job.     He  is. 

Rash.     If  my  cousin,  Mr.  Francis   Osbaldistone.  follows 

n  to  Glasgow,  instantly  enforce  the  warrant,  of  which  you 
hare  a  duplicate. 

fob.  It  shall  be  done,  you  may  depend  on  it,  Sir. 
'Rash.  'Tis  of  importance  to  keep  him  out  of  the  way ; — 
£hat  man  is  a  basilisk  in  my  sight,  and  has  been  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  to  my  dearest  hopes.  Now,  Sir,  a  word  : — 
if  you  breathe  a  syllable  to  any  human  being  of  the  business 
sh  the  government  has  entrusted  to  my  direction,  before 
th\  blow  is  struck  which  must  counteract  the  intended  rising 
in/the  Highlands,  you  share  the  destiny  of  the  rankest  rebel 
^mong  them.  As  to  the  papers  which  I  forwarded  to  Mac- 
Gregor.  ere  long  they  shall  be  again  in  my  possession,  and 
himself  in  your  custody.      What  hour  is  it  1 

Job.     Not  yet  five,  Sir. 

Rash.     'Tis  well:  we  have  time  before  us.     Make  your- 
self ready,  and  be  well  armed.     Leave  me. 

[Extt  JOBSON,  L. 

— MacT^itrgoi  is  by  this  -timo  in  tile"  High  lands!  He  still 
believes  me  faithful  to  the  cause  I  have  hitherto  so  ardently 
encouraged  and  assisted  ;  and  those  papers  (which  I  now 
regret  having  committed  to  his  care)  will  at  least  serve  to  aid 
the  delusion.      Cursed  infatuation  ! — yet  I  repine  not.  for  I 


^BJrE    l-  ROB    ROY.  25 

have  the  power  to  check  the  gaze  of  cunning,  probe  all  hearts, 
and  watch  the  varying  check,  linked  with  succe-v.it  moulds 
each  other's  weakness  to  my  will  ; — such  it.  hath  been,  ami 
such  it  shall  be  now  !  Rejected  by  her  I  loved,  scorned  by 
him  I  would  have  served, — they  shall  at  least  find  the  false 
friend,  and  the  renegade  knows  how  to  resent  such  insults. 
Ah  !   (sfd'ts  hut  instantly  recovers  himself.) 

Enter  Francis  C^sbaldistone,  r. 

Fran,   (r.c  )   You  are  well  met,  Sir. 

Rash,  (l.c  )  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  [aside)  He's  earlier 
than  I  expected ;  but  Jobsou  is  prepared. 

Fran,  I  was  about  to  take  a  long  and  doubtful  journey  in 
quest  of  you. 

Rash.  You  know  little  of  him  you  sought  then.  I'm 
easily  found  by  my  friends,  and  still  more  easily  by  my  foes  ; 
in  which  am  I  to  class  Mr.  Francis  Osbaldistone  ? 

Fran,  In  that  of  your  foes,  Sir — your  mortal  foes,  unless 
you  instantly  do  justice  to  my  father,  by  accounting  for  his 
property. 

Rash.  And  to  whom  am  I,  a  member  of  y<mr  fathers 
commercial  establishment,  to  be  compelled  to  give  an  account 
of  my  proceedings  ?  Surely,  not  to  a  young  gentleman, 
whose  exquisite  taste  for  literature  would  render  such  dis- 
cussions disgusting  and  unintelligible. 

Fran.  Yrour  sneer,  Sir,  is  no  answer ;  you  inus!  accompany 
me  to  a  magistrate. 

R.ash.  Be  it  so; — yet — no, — were  I  inclined  to  do  as  yon 
would  have  me,  you  should  soon  feel  which  of  us  had  most 
reason  to  dread  the  presence  of  a^nagistrate  ;  but  i  have  no 
wish  to  accelerate  your  fate.  Go,  young  man  ;  amuse  your- 
self in  your  world  of  poetical  imagination,  and  leave  the 
business  of  life  to  those  who  understand,  and  can  conduct  it. 

Fran.  This  tone  of  calm  insolence  shall  not  avail  you, 
Sir  ! — the  name  we  both  bear  never  yet  submitted  to  insult. 

Rash,  llight,  right ! — you  remind  me  that  it  was  dishon- 
ored in  my  person — you  remind  me  also  by  whom  Think 
you  I  have  forgotten  that  blow, — never  to  be  washed  out,  but 
by  blood  ?  For  the  various  times  you  have  crossed  my  path, 
and  always  to  my  prejudice — for  the  persevering  folly  with 
which  you  seek  to  traverse  schemes,  the  importance  of  which 
you  neither  know,  nor  are  capable  of  estimating. — you  ovre 


ROB     ROY.  I  Act.  IL 

me  a  long  account ;  and  fear  not,  there  shall  come  an  early 
day  of  reckoning. 

Fran.  Why  not  the  present  1  Do  your  schemes  or  your 
safety  require  delay  ? 

Rash.  You  may  trample  on  the  harmless  worm,  but  pause 
ere  you  rouse  the  slumbering  yenom  of  the  folded  snake. 

Fran.  I  will  not  be  trifled  with. 

Hash.  I  had  other  views  respecting  you ;  but  enough. 
Receive  now  the  chastisement  of  your  boyish  insolence. 
{tJiey  draw,  and  at  the  moment  their  swords  cross,  Campbell 
rushes  forward  from  l.,  and  beats  down  their  guard.) 

Camp,   (c.)   Hold!  standoff! 

Bash,  (l.)  MacGregor  ! 

Camp.  By  the  hand  of  my  father  !  the  first  man  that 
strikes,  I'll  cleave  him  to  the  brisket,  (to  Francis.)  Think 
you  to  establish  your  father's  credit  by  cutting  your  kins- 
man's throat?  Or  do  you,  Sir — (to  Rashleigh)  imagine 
men  will  trust  their  lives,  their  fortunes,  and  a  great  political 
interest,  with  one  that  brawls  about  like  a  drunken  Gillie  1 
Nay,  nay,  never  look  grim,  or  gash  at  me.  man  !  If  you're 
angry,  turn  the  buckle  of  your  belt  behind  you. 

Rash.  You  presume,  Sir,  on  my  present  situation,  or  you 
would  hardly  dare  to  interfere  where  my  honor  is  concerned. 

Camp.  Presume  !  And  what  for  should  it  be  presuming  ? 
Yo  may  be  the  richer  man,  Mr.  Osbaldistone,  as  is  most 
likely,  and  ye  may  be  the  more  learned  man,  which  I  dispute 
not;  but  you  are  neither  a  better  nor  a  braver  man  than 
myself: — and  it  will  be  news  to  me,  indeed,  when  I  hear  you 
are  half  so  good.  And  dare  too  ?  dare  !  Hout,  tout ! — 
much  daring  there  is  about  it. 

Rash,  (aside.)  What  4&*  devil  brought  him  here  to  mar 
a  plan  so  well  devised?     I  must  lure  him  to  the  toils. 

Camp.  What  say  you  ? 

Rash.  My  kinsman  will  acknowledge  he  forced  this  on  me. 
I'm  glad  we  were  interrupted  before  I  chastised  his  insolence 
t*o  severely.     The  quarrel  was  none  of  my  seeking. 

Camp.  Well,  then,  walk  with  me — I  have  news  for  you. 

Fran.  Pardon  me,  Sir ;  I  will  not  lose  sight  of  him.  till 
lie  has  done  justice  to  my  father. 

Camp.  Would  you  bring  two  on  your  head  instead  of  one  ? 

Fran.  Twenty — rather  than  again  neglect  my  duty. 

Rash.  You  hear  him,  MacGregor  !  Is  it  my  fault  that  ho 
raphes  on  his  fate?      The  warrants  are  out. 


Scene  I.  ROB   ROY.  27 

Camp.  Warrants  ! — curses  on  all  such  instruments  !  they 
have  been  the  plague  of  poor  old  Scotland  for  this  hundred 
years — but.  come  on't  what  will,  I'll  never  consent  to  his 
being  hurt  that  stands  up  for  the  father  that  begot  him. 

Rash.  Indeed  !  j 

Camp.   My  conscience  will  not  let  me.  ] 

Rash.    Your  conscience.  MacGregor  !  - 

Cam]).  Yes.  my  conscience,  Sir  ;  I  have  such  a  thing  about 
me  ;  that,  at  least,  is  one  advantage  which  you  cannot  boast  of. 

Rash.  You  forget  how  Whig  you  and  I  have  known  each 
other. 

Camp.  If  you  know  what  I  am,  you  know  likewise  what 
usage  made  me  what  I  am  ;  and  whatever  you  may  think,  I 
would  not  change  with  the  proudest  of  the  oppressors  that 
have  driven  me  to  take  the  heather  bush  for  shelter.  What 
you  arc,  and  what  excuse  you  have  for  being  what  you  are, 
lies  between  your  own  heart  and  the  long  day. 

Rash,  (aside.)  Can  MacGregor  suspect?  Has  MacVittie 
betrayed  me  ? 

Camp.  Leave  him.  I  say  ! — you  are  more  in  danger  from 
a  magistrate  than  he  is;  and  were  your  cause  as  straight  as 
an  arrow,  he'd  find  a  way  to  warp  it.  (Francis  persists  in 
not  leaving  Rashlkigh,  but  is  withheld  by  Campbell.)  Take 
your  way,  Rashleigh — make  one  pair  of  legs  worth  two  pair 
of  hands      You  have  done  that  before  now. 

Rash.  Cousin,  you  may  thank  this  gentleman,  if  I  leavo 
any  part  of  my  debt  to  you  unpaid  ;  but  I  quit  you  now,  in  the 
hope  that  we  shall  soon  meet  again,  without  the  possibility  of 
interruption.  Exit  l. 

Camp,  (as  Francis  struggles  to  follow.)  As  I  live  by 
bread,  you  are  as  mad  as  he  !  Would  you  follow  the  wolf  to 
his  den?  (puslies  him  back.)  Come,  come.be  cool — 'tis  to  me 
you  must  look  for  that  you  seek.  Keep  aloof  from  Rash- 
leigh, and  that  pettifogging  justice  clerk,  Jobson  ;  above  all 
from  MacVittie.  Make  the  best  of  your  way  to  Aberfoil. — 
and,  by  the  word  of  a  MacGregor,  I  will  not  see  you  wronged  ! 
Remember  the  Clachan  of  Aberfoil.  (Campbell  s/iakes  his 
hand  with  great  cordiality  ;  tJien  exit  l.,  Frank  it.) 


28  rob  ROY.  (Act  II. 

Scene  II. — The  Library  at  Osbaldistone  Hall. 
{A  knocking  heard  without. ")S^  -J' 

Enter  Sir  Frederick  Vernon  from  the  panel,  l.  c,,  with 

Jiaste  and  agitation. 

Sir  F.  I  ivas  not  mistaken  :— it  is  at  the  private  door. 
{knocking  again)  Martha  !  Martha  !  I  dread  the  purport 
of  this  unexpected  visit ; — yet  what  should  I  fear  ?     Martha ! 

Enter  Martha.  %.    )  \  dj 

Mart/ui.  I  come.  I  come.     Bless  me.  I'm  a'  in  a  tremble. 

Sir  F.  Is  Diana  in  the  next  apartment  ? 

Martha.   Yes,  truly,  and  full  o'  wonder  and  apprehension. 

Sir  F  Haste  and  observe  the  appearance  of  this  person. 
Question  but  do  not  admit  him  till  I  know  his  errand. 

[Exit  Martha,  l. 
Can  it  be  Campbell  ? — Rashleigh  ?  No — perhaps  a  courier 
from  the  earl  of  Mar.  My  hopes,  my  existence,  hang  upon 
a  thread — either  Scotland  has  her  rights  restored,  or  I  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  life. 

Re-enter  Martha,  with  a  letter,  l. 

Well 

Martha.  A  gentleman, — a  cavalier, — a — I  ken  na  what  to 
ca'  him; — this,  he  said,  would  speak  for  him  [gives  the  letter, 
which  Sir  Frederick  opens,  and  reads  with  agitation. )  And 
weel  it  ought,  for  he  had  scarcely  breath  to  say,  u  Deliver 
that."  when  he  put  spurs  to  his  panting  steed,  and  dashed 
frae  the  wicket  as  if  he  had  seen  a  warlock  or  a  witch,  in- 
stead o'  a  decent-looking  lassie 

Sir  F.  Betrayed — ruined — lost !  Desire  my  daughter  to 
attend  me. 

[Exit  Martha  r 
0,  villain,  villain  !  I  had  suspicions,  but  little  did  I  expect 
so  sudden,  so  fatal  a  confirmation  !  This  ill  advised  confi- 
dence in  Rashleigh  has  ruined  all.  To  yield,  or  to  be  taken 
now.  were  but  to  lay  our  heads  upon  the  block.  But  'tis  yet 
too  strong  a  cause  to  be  abandoned  for  the  breath  of  a  trait- 
or's  tale.      Promptness  and  decision  often  restore  to  health 


[Sew  II.  rob  rot  2& 

and  vigor  that  which  despair  would  leave  hopelessly  to  perish. 
I  must  hasten  instantly  to  the  Highlands,— if  our  friends 
there  are  as  weak  as  some  are  false  : — but  one  course  remains 
— an  immediate  escape  to  France. 

Enter  Diana  Vernon,  r. 

Diana.  Dear  Sir,  what  means  this  unusual  summons? 

Sir  F.  Diana,  our  perils  are  now  at  the  utmost ; — you 
must  accompany  and  share  them  with  me. 

Diana.  Willingly.  % 

Sir  F.  Contemplate  the  dangers  which  surround  us  with 
firmness  and  resolution  ; — rely  on  the  justice  of  Heaven, 
and  the  unshaken  constancy  of  your  own  mind. 

Diana.  I  have  been  taught  endurance,  Sir,  and  will  not 
shrink  from  it  now.  What  I  have  borne  for  your  sake,  I  can 
bear  again.     But  the  cause?     Some  political  secret? 

Sir  F.  Yes; — which  your  late  rejection  of  Rashleigh  for 
a  husband  has  induced  him  to  betray, — contrary  to  the  oath 
by  which  he  bound  himself.  But  prepare  instantly  for  your 
departure. 

Diana.  Whither  to  go  ? 

Sir  F.  First  to  the  Highland  : — I  must  endeavor  to  see 
MacGrcgor  : — you  shall  know  more  when  I  have  made  my 
own  arrangements.  I  will  relieve  the  distresses  of  your 
cousin,  Francis,  if  possible  ;  but  the  solemn  contract  that 
has  bound  me  to  Rashleigh  leaves  the  convent  your  whole 
and  sole  resource,  unless,  indeed,  you  renounce  the  creed  in 
which  you  have  been  educated. 

Diana.  Forsake  the  faith  of  my  gallant  fathers  !  Never — 
I  would  as  soon,  were  I  a  man,  forsake  their  banners  when 
the  tide  of  war  pressed  hardest,  and  turn,  like  a  hireling  re- 
creant, to  join  its  enemies  !  (Sir  Frederick  clasps  her 
with  transport  to  his  bosom,  and  exit  d.l.c.)  Yes,  when  the 
gathering  cry  is  heard  upon  the  hills,  there's  not  a  lassie  but 
will  share  her  hero's  danger  ;  and  thus  sing  the  praise  of  her 
gallant  Highlandman. 

SONG- . — [words  by  burns.]    (~ 

Air—"  White  Cockade" 

A  Highland  lad  my  love  was  born, 
The  Lowland  laws  he  held  in  scorn, 
But  he  still  was  faithful  to  his  clan, 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman. 


30  ROB  ROY.  [Act  It 

Sing  hey  my  braw  John  Highlandman, 
Sing  ho  my  braw  JohD  Highlandman, 
There's  not  a  lad  in  a'  the  clan 
Can  match  \vi'  my  braw  Highlandman. 

With  his  bonnet  blue,  and  tartan  plaid, 
And  good  claymore  down  by  his  side, 
The  ladies'  hearts  he  did  trepan, 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman. 
Sing  hey,  &c. 

#  [Exit  r. 

Scene  III. — Interior  of  Jean  Mac  Alpine's  Change  House, 
in  the  Clachan  of  Aberfoul. — Turf  Fire,  r.h. 

At  an  oak  table,  sit  Major  G-albraith  and  MacStuart. — 
In  one  corner  lies  a  Highlander  asleep,  his  sword  and  tar- 
get near  him. 

MacStuart.  Eneugh,  eneugh,  Galbraith — I  can  tcuk  my 
pint  of  usquebach,  or  pranty  either,  wi'  ony  man  :  but  we 
have  wark  in  hand  just  noo,  and  had  better  look  to  it. 

Galb.  Hout  tout,  man — meat  and  mass  never  yet  hindered 
wark  ;  had  it  been  my  directing,  instead  of  this  Rish — Rash 
— what  the  deevil  is  the  Saxon's  name  1 

MacStuart.  Haud  your  whist,  Major,  man — haud  your 
whist, — don't  let  the  pranty  be  owre  strong  for  your  prains. 
Do  you  no  see  ?   pointing  to  the  sleeper. ) 

Galb.  I  say  that  the  garrison  and  our  troopers,  with  Cap- 
tain Thornton's  party,  could  have  taken  Rob  Roy,  without 
bringing  you  all  the  way  from  the  Glens  to  Aberfoil  here. 
There's  the  hand  that  would  lay  him  flat  upon  the  green,  and 
never  ask  a  Hielander  for  help. 

MacStuart.  Come,  come — 'tis  time  we  were  going. 

Galb.  Going  !  why,  'tis  here  Thornton  was  appointed  to 
meet  us  ;  besides,  mind  the  auld  saw. — ;-  It's  a  bauld  moon, 
quo'  Bennygask — anither  pint,  quo'  Lesslie ;"  and  we'll  no 
Bteer  a  stap  till  we've  drucken  it  neither,    (rises.) 

SONG. 

(words  altered  from  Wordsworth's  poem  of  "  rob  roy's 

GRAVE.") 
Air — "  My  love  she's  but  a  lassie  yet." 

A  famous  man  was  Robin  Hood. 

The  English  ballad  singer's  joy ; 
But  Scotland  has  a  thief  as  good, — 

She  has  -she  has  her  bold  Rob  Roy. 


5cBNE.ni  ROB    ROY  81 

A  dauntless  heart  MacGregor  shows, 
And  wondrous  length  and  strength  of  arm; 

He  long  has  quell'd  his  Highland  foes, 
And  kept — and  kept  his  friends  from  harm. 
Chorus. — A  famous  man,  &c. 

Hi*  daring  mood  protects  him  still, 

For  this — the  robber's  simple  plan, 
That  they  should  take  who  have  the  will, 

And  they  should  keep— should  keep  who  can. 
And  while  Rob  Roy  is  i'ree  to  rove, 

In  summer's  heat  and  winter's  snow, 
The  eagle  he  is  lord  above, 

And  bold  Rob  Roy  is  lord  below. 

Chorus  ---A  famous  man,  &c. 

Jean  Mag  Alpine  is  heard  without  in  loud  expostulation 
with  Francis  Osbaldistone  and  Bailie  Nicol  Jar  vie. 
Galbraith  and  MacStuart  look  round  angrily.  The 
Sleeper  raises  his  Jiead,  and  discovers  himself  to  be  Bougal. 
He  secures  his  sword  and  target,  and  resumes  his  position 
as  tfie  Bailie  and  Francis  enter,  l.d. 

Jean.  Indeed,  gentlemen,  my  house  is  taen  up  wi'  tliem 
that  winna  like  to  be  intruded  on. 

Fran.  But,  my  good  woman,  we  are  dying  with  hunger. 

Bailie.  Starving !  Sax  hours  since  I  tasted  a  morsel, 
except  the  rough,  tough  legs  o'  an  auld  moor-cock,  (crosses 
towards  fire,  r.) 

Jean.   You  had  better  gang  far'er  than  fare  waur. 

Bailie.  I've  ither  eggs  upon  the  spit.  I'll  no  steer  a 
stap,  woman. 

Jean.  Weel,  weel ;  a  wilfu'  man  ^maun  hae  his  own  way. 
But  I  wash  my  hands  on't. 

Fran.  I  must  make  the  best  apology  I  can  to  your  guests  ; 
but  as  they  are  so  few,  I  hope  little  will  be  required  for  add- 
ii  g  two  more  to  their  company. 

Exit  Jean  Mac  Alpine,  l.  Tlie  Bailie  turns  up  a  mml- 
tub,  and  seats  himself  very  composedly  near  the  fire.  Fa  an- 
cis  goes  to  seat  himself  near  Galbraith,  ivho  instantly 
throws  his  legs  upon  tlie  seat. 

Galb    You  make  yourself  perfectly  at  hame,  Sir. 
Fran,   (c.)   We  usually  do  so,  Sir,  when  we  enter  a  bouse 
of  public  entertainment. 


32  rob    ROY.  [Act.  II. 

Bailie,  (r.)  Pray,  gentlemen,  dinna  be  aDgry  ;  we  are  only 
bits  o'  Glasgow  bodies,  travelling  to  get  in  some  siller  that's 
awing  us 

MacStuart.  (r.c.)  Did  you  no  saw  by  the  white  wan'  at 
the  door,  that  the  public-hoose  was  occupied. 

Fran  The  white  wand  !  I  do  not  pretend  to  understand 
the  customs  of  this  country,  but  I  am  yet  to  learn  how  three 
persons  should  be  entitled  to  exclude  all  other  travellers 
from  the  only  place  of  shelter  and  refreshment  for  miles 
round. 

Bailie.  There's  nae  reason  for't.  gentlemen. — we  mean 
nae  offence  ;  and  if  a  stoup  o'  brandy  will  heal  the  quarrel — 

Galb.   Damn  your  brandy  ! 

Bailie  That's  civil.  It's  my  opinion  ye've  gotten  owre 
inuckle  o'  that  already,  if  ane  may  judge  by  ye're  manners. 

MaeStuart.  We  want  naither  your  company  nor  your 
pranty. 

Galb.  (mimicking  MacStuart.)  No — we  want  naither 
your  company  nor  your  pranty  ;  and  if  ye  be  pretty  men, 
draw.  iunsJieatlies  his  sword ;  MacStuart  and  Francis  do 
the  same  ) 

MacStuart.  Aye,  traw. 

Bailie,  {starts  up.)  Draw  !  I'm  neither  a  pretty  man,  nor 
hae  I  ony  thing  to  draw  ;  but  by  the  soul  o'  my  faither,  the 
Deacon.  I'se  no  tak  a  blow  without  gieing  a  thrust,  {runs  to 
the  fire,  and  seizes  a  red-hot  poker  )  So  that  he  that  likes  it, 
has  it.  (cis  they  make  «  tilt  at  each  other,  Dougal  starts  up, 
and  darts  between  tlw  Bailie  and  MacStuart.) 

Doug,  (c.)  Her  naiusel'  has  eaten  the  town-pread  o'  Glas- 
go',  an'  si  ell  feught  for  Nicol  Bailie  Sharvie  at  Aberfoil — 
troth  will  she  !   Och,  neish  ! 

MacStuart.  Haud,  baud — the  quarrel's  no  mortal,  and  the 
gentlemen's  hae  given  raisonable  satiswhaction. 

Bailie    I'm  glad  to  hear't. 

Galb.  Weel,  weel,  as  the  gentlemen  have  shown  themselves 
men  o'  honor 

[Dougal  goes  offi  l.d. 

MacStuart.  Men  oJ  honor!  Wha  ta  teevil  ever  saw  men 
o'  honor  feught  wi'  a  fire-prand  before  ?  Figh  !  my  braw 
new  plai^ie  smells  like  a  singit  sheep's  head. 

Bailie.  Let  that  be  nae   hindrance  to  gude  fellowship ; 


Scene  III.  ROB  ROY.  ,33 

there's  aye  a  plaister  for  a  broken  head.  If  I've  brunt  ye're 
plaidie.  I  can  mend  it  wi'  a  new  ane.     I'm  a  weaver. 

Ga/b.  A  weaver !  Pah  !  (retires  up  tlie  stage,  sna2>ping 
his  fingers  at  him  with  great  contempt.) 

MacStuart.  Weel,  Sir,  the  neist  time  that  ye'll  fecht,  lat 
it  be  wi  a  soord,  like  a  Christian,  and  no  wi'  a  red-het  poker, 
like  a  wild  Indian  sawage. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  I  a  man  maun  dae  his  best.  I  was 
obliged  to  grip  at  the  first  thing  that  came  in  my  way  ;  and, 
as  I'm  a  Bailie.  I  wadna  desire  a  better. 

Galb.  Come,  come,  let's  drink  and  agree  like  honest  fal- 
lows (slueathes  his  sword.  Francis  and  MacStuart  do  tlie 
same,  and  the  Bailie  replaces  tliepoker.) 

Bailie.  Weel,  noo  I  find  there's  nae  hole  in  my  wame,  I'll 
no  be  the  waur  for  putting  something  in  till't.  [seats  himself 
He  and  Galbraith  converse  apart.  Andrew  Fairservice, 
with  a  letter  in  his  hand,  appears  at  the  door,  terrified  for  fear 
of  intruding.  Fiiancis  beckons  him  forward.  Dougal  ap- 
pears at  the  window  watching.) 

And.  I'm  an  honest  lad.  Sir, — I  wadna  part  wi'  your  honor 
lightly  : — but,  the — the — the — read  that! 

Fran.  'Tis  from  Campbell !   [reads.) 

"There  are  hawks  abroad,  and  I  cannot  meet  you  at  Aberfoil,  as 
intended.  The  bearer  is  laiihful,  and  may  be  trusted  ;  he  will  guide 
you  to  a  place  where  we  will  be  sate,  and  tree  to  look  alter  certain 
affairs,  in  which  I  hope  to  be  your  guidance. 

(i  Robert  MacGregor  Campbell." 

Hawks  ! — he  means  the  government  forces.  From  whom  did 
you  receive  this  ? 

And.  Frae  a  Hieland  deevil  wi'  a  redhead — that — that — 
[perceives  Dougal' s  itead  at  tlie  ivindow.) 

Fran.  Have  the  horses  saddled,  and  be  ready  at  a  minute's 
notice.  (Dougal,  satisfied  that  tlie  letter  lias  been  read,  dis- 
appears ) 

And.  De'il  be  in  my  feet  if  I  stir  a  tae's  length  far'er ; — 
to  gang  into  Rab  Roy's  country  is  a  mere  tempting  o'  Prov- 
idence. 

Fran.  Wait  without — one  way  or  the  other  I  will  deter- 
mine speedily. 

And.  I  dinna  gie  a  damn  how  ye  determine,  Sir,  but  I 
winna  do't — I'm  no  sic  a  born  idiwut — I'll  no  do't. 

[Exit  L.D. 


34  ROB  ROY.  TActIL 

Bailie.  Let  Glasgow  flourish !  I'll  hear  nae  language 
offensive  to  the  Duke  o'  Argyle,  or  the  name  o'  Campbell. 
My  conscience  !  Remember  the  het  poker  !  I  say,  he's  a 
credit  to  the  country,  and  a  good  friend  to  our  town  and 
trade. 

Galb.  Ah  !  there'll  be  a  new  warld  soon — we  shall  have  no 
Campbells  cocking  their  bonnets  so  high,  and  protecting 
thieves  and  murderers,  to  harry  and  spoil  better  men,  and 
mair  loyal  clans. 

Bailie.  Sir,  ye  gie  your  tongue  owre  great  a  lieshence  :  ye 
may  be  mair  loval  clans,  but,  by  my  soul,  ye're  no  better  men  ! 

Galb.   No? 

Bailie.  No!   (Jfght  again.) 

Fran.  Pray,  gentlemen,  do  not  renew  your  quarrel  ;  in  a 
few  moments  we  must  part  company. 

Mac  Stuart.  Weel,  weel,  there's  nae  occasion  for  ony  mair 
het  blude.  But  you  must  know.  Sir.  that  we  are  harried  out 
o'  all  patience  here  wi'  mee  ings  to  put  down  Hob  Roy.  I 
hae  chased  the  MacGregor  myself. — have  had  him  at  pay  like 
red-deer  ;  but  still  the  Duke  o'  Argyle  gi'es  him  shelter.  Oh  ! 
it's  eneugh  to  make  a  man  mad.  I  wad  gi'e  something  to  be 
as  near  him  as  I  hae  been. 

Bailie.  Wud  ye  ?   {ironically.) 

MacStuart.  Aye. 

Bailie.  Ye'll  forgi'e  me.  frien',  for  speaking  my  mind  ; — 
but  it's  my  thought,  you'd  hae  gi'en  the  best  button  on  your 
coat  to  hae  been  as  far  awa'  fra  Rab  Roy  then  as  you  are 
now.  M}'  conscience  !  my  het  poker  wae  hae  been  naething 
to  his  claymore. 

MacStuart.  You  tamn'd  weaver  !  One  word  mair  about 
that  whilthy  poker,  by  my  saul.  I'll  mak  you  ait  it,  and  sax 
inches  o'  cauld  steel  into  the  bargain. 

Bailie,  (seizing  the  poker)  Wull  you,  Sir  ? 

Frail.  Come,  come,  gentlemen,  let  us  all  be  friends  here ; 
and  drink  to  all  friends  far  away. 

SONG. 

[words  by  burns.] 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

An'  never  brought  to  mind'? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

An'  days  o'  lang>yne  1 


[bcENBlII.  rob  rot.  35 

For  auld  langsyne,  my  friends, 

For  auki  langsyne, 
We'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  langsyne. 

Chorus. — For  auld  langsyne,  &c. 

An'  here's  a  hand,  my  trusty  friend. 

An'  gie's  a  hand  o'  ihine, 
An'  we'll  toom  the  stov/p  to  friendship's  growth, 

An'  days  o'  langsyne. 

Chorus.— For  auld  langsyne,  &c 

An'  surely  you'll  be  your  pint-stowp, 

An'  surely  I'll  be  mine, 
An'  we'll  tak' a  right  gude  willy-wacht, 
For  auld  langsyne. 

Chorus.— For  auld  langsyne,  &c. 

(A  drum  heard  without  J) 

Enter  Jean  Mac  Alpine,  in  alarm,  l.d. 
Jean.  The  red-coats  !   the  red-coats  !  [Exit  r. 

Enter  Captain  Thornton,  l.d. 

Capt.  T.  You,  Sir,  I  suppose,  are  Major  G-albraith,  of  the 
squadron  of  Lennox  Militia? — and  these  are  the  Highland 
gentlemen  whom  I  was  appointed  to  meet  in  this  place  1 

Galb.  You  are  right,  Sir  ;  Captain  Thornton,  I  presume. 
Will  you  take  any  refreshment  ? 

Capt.  T.  I  thank  you,  none ;  I  am  late,  and  desirous  to 
make  up  time.  I  have  orders  to  search  for  and  arrest  two 
persons  guilty  of  treasonable  practices.  Do  these  gentlemen 
belong  to  your  party  1 

Bailie.  No,' Sir; — we're  travellers,  Sir — lawfu'  travellers 
by  land  and  sea. 

Capt.  T.  My  instructions  are.  to  place  under  arrest  an 
elderly  and  a  young  person  ; — you  answer  the  description 

Bailie.  Me  !  Tak  care  what  ye  say,  Sir — tak  care  what 
ye  say  !  It'll  no  be  your  red-coat,  nor  your  laced  hat,  that'll 
protect  you,  gin  you  put  an  affront  on  me.  I'll  convene  you 
in  an  action  o'  scandal  and  fause  imprisonment.  I'm  a  free 
burgess,  and  a  magistrate  Nicol  Jarvie  is  my  name — so 
was  my  faither's  afore  me.  I'm  a  Bailie, — be  praised  for  the 
honor! — and  my  faitber  was  a  Deacon — yes,  Sir.  he  was  Dea- 
con o'  the  weavers. 


30 


ROB   ROV.  [Act  II. 


Galb.  True  enough  ;  his  faith er  was  a  prick-ear d  cur  and 
fought  against  the  King  at  Bothwell-Brig. 

Bailie  My  faither  paid  what  he  ought,  and  what  he 
bought.  Major  Galbraith,  since  I  ken  you  are  Major  Gal- 
braith  ;  and  wa?  an  bonester  man  than  ever  stood  upon  your 
clumsy  shanks, — Major  Galbraith. 

Galb    Clumsy  shanks  !   {looking at  his  legs.) 

Capt.  T.  I  have  no  time  to  attend  to  all  this.  And  you, 
Sir.  what  may  your  name  be?   (to  Fran.) 

Fran.  Francis  Osbaldistoue. 

Capt.  T.  What !  a  son  of  Sir  Hildebrand  ? 

Bailie.  No,  Sir  ;  a  son  till  a  better  man : — the  great 
William  Osbaldistone,  Crane  Alley,  London,  as  Mr.  Owen 
has  it. 

Capt.  T.  I  am  afraid.  Sir,  your  name  only  increases  the 
suspicions  against  you,  and  lays  me  under  the  necessity  of 
demanding  your  papers. 

Bailie    {aside)  That's  a  very  modest  request. 

Fran.  I  have  none  to  surrender. 

Capt.  T.  What  is  that  now  in  your  breast  1 

Fran.  Oh  !  to  this  you  are  welcome  ;  (giving  it.)  yet  it 
may  endanger — I  have  done  wrong,   (aside  ) 

Bailie.  What  for  did  ye  dae  it  then,  ye  gouk? 

Capt.  T.  'Tis  confirmed.  Here  I  find  you  in  written 
communication  with  the  outlawed  robber,  MacGregor  Camp- 
bell. 

Galb    Spies  of  Rob  ! 

MacStuart.  Strap  'em  up  the  next  tree. 

Bailie.  Gently,  gently,  kind  gentlemen,  if  you  please  ; — 
there's  isae  hurry. 

Capt.  T.  How  came  you  possessed  of  this  ? 

Fran.  You  will  excuse  my  answering. 

Capt   T.  Do  you,  Sir,  know  anything  of  this  ? 

Bailie.  By  the  soul  o'  my  faither,  the  Deacon,  no ! 

Capt.  T.  Gentlemen,  you  are  waited  for.  {significantly  to 
Galbraith.)  I'll  thank  you  to  order  two  sentinels  to  the 
door. 

Exeunt  Galbraith  and  MacStuart,  l.d. 

Bailie.   SentiDels  !  sentinels  !     What 

Capt.  T.  I  can  hear  no  remonstrance  : — the  service  1  am 

on  gives  me  no  time  for  idle  discussions.     Come,  Sir 

Bailie.  0.  vera  weel,  Sir,  vera  weel.     Ye're  welcome  to  a 


[SC*NSIV.  ROB    ROY.  37 

tune  on  }Tour  ain  fiddle  ;  but  if  I  dinna  mak  ye  dance  till't 
before  I've  done,  my  name's  no  Nicol  Jarvie  '  Gude  save 
us  ! — arrest  a  Bailie. — a  free  burgess, — a  magistrate  !  My 
conscience  ! 

[^Exit,  following  Capt.  Thornton  and  Francis,  l.d. 

Scene  IV. —  The  Clachan  of  Aberfoil.  A~jzw~  miserable 
fooling,  'tow  roofed  hovels  in  various  parts  under  thecraigs, 
which  rise  immediately  behind  the?n,  interspersed  with 
brush-wood,  §-c.  The  back  of  the  Scene  exhibits  the  distant 
Highland  Country.  Part  of  a  house  conspicuous  near  tlie 
front,  r.  MacStuart  crosses  at  tlie  top  of  the  stage,  fol- 
lowed by  Major  Galbraith,  ivho  beckons  on  the  Skrjeant, 
and  after  giving  him  directions  to  place  Sentinels  before 
the  Inn  door,  exits  with  MacStuart.  The  Serjeant  brings 
on  tlie  Soldiers,  who  range  themselves  in  the  back-ground : 
two  Sentinels  are  placed  at  the  front  of  the  Inn. 

Enter  Captain  Thornton,  from  tlie  Inn,  r.u.e. 

Capt.  T.  Serjeant,  make  the  men  fall  in*  {Exit  Serjeant.) 
Come,  my  lads,  get  under  arms.  I  cannot  be  mistaken  : — 
these  strangers  must  be  persons  described  by  Rashleigh 
Osbaldistone.  Yet  his  own  relative,  one  would  think,  might 
have  been  overlooked.  No,  no — he  is  one  that  makes  no  ex- 
ceptions. The  self  interested  wretch,  that  would  have  first 
betrayed  his  country,  and  now  his  dearest  friends,  respects 
no  tie  of  honor,  kindred,  or  affection.  Sentinels,  bring  out 
your  prisoners. 

The  Sentinels  enter  the  bin.  At  the  same  instant  a  noise  is 
heard  without;  tlie  Serjeant  and  two  men  enter  dragging 
forward  Dougal  from  r.u.e.,  followed  by  the  inhabitants 
of  the  viVage,  consisting  of  women  and  children  ;  they  are 
eager  for  the  safety  of  Dougal,  and  with  difficulty  suppress 
their  enmity  to  the  Soldiers. 

Doug.   Oi^b.  oigh  ! 
Serj.  Bring  him  along. 
People.   Oigh,  oigh  !  poor  Dougal ! 

Capt.  T.  (l.c)  Cease  this  howling,  and  let  the  man  be 
heard. 

Doug,   (c.)  Oigh,  oigh  ! 

Serj.   (r.c)  We  caught  this  fellow  lurking  behind  the  inn, 


38  ROB   ROT.  [Act  II. 

Captain ; — he  confesses  to  have  seen  Rob  Roy  within  this 
half  hour. 

Capt.  T.  How  many  men  had  he  with  him,  fellow,  when 
you  parted  % 

Doug.  She  cannot  just  fery  be  sure  about  tat. 

Capt.  T.  l\»ur  life  depends  upon  your  answer.  How 
many  rogues  fiad  that  outlawed  scoundrel  with  him  ? 

Doug.  No  aboon  half  so  mony  as  there  wud  pe  here  the 
noo. 

Capt.  T.  And  what  thieves'  errand  were  you  dispatched 
upon'/  (Dougal  looks  about  him,  a^s  beset  with  doubt  and 
difficulty.)  Speak,  rascal,  instantly  !  I'll  not  give  you  time 
to  hatch  a  lie  : — what  errand  ? 

Doug.  Just  to  see  what  your  honor  and  the  red-coats  wus 
pc  want  at  Aberfoil. 

Enter  tlie  Sentinels  from  the  Inn,  r.,  conducting  Francis 
Osbaldistone  and  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie,  who  come  down 
to  the  front. 

Bailie,  (rc.)  Mercy  on  us!  they've  gripped  the  puir 
Dougal  creature.  Captain,  I'll  put  in  bail,  sufficient  bail,  for 
that  Dougal  creature. 

Capt.  T.  (l.c.)  You  know  him  then — are  interested  for 
his  safety  % 

Bailie.  Yes,  Sir ;  he  did  me  a  good  turn  ance  when  I  was 
sair  beset,  and  I 

Capt.  T.  Mr.  Jarvie,  you  will  please  to  recollect,  that  for 
the  present  you  likewise  are  a  prisoner  % 

Bailie.  Me  !  My  conscience  !  Sir,  I  tak  you  to  witness 
the  Captain  refuses  sufficient  bail,  (taking  one  of  tlie  Senti- 
nels by  the  breast.)  The  Dougal  creature  has  a  gude  action 
o'  wrangous  imprisonment,  and  I'se  see  him  righted — I'se 
see  him  righted. 

Capt.  T.  Mr.  Jarvie 

Bailie.  Mr.  Bailie  Jarvie,  gin  ye  please,  Sir. 

Capt  T.  Well,  then,  Mr.  Bailie  Jarvie,  unless  you  keep 
your  opinions  to  yourself,  I  shall  resort  to  unpleasant  mea- 
sures. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  ! — wull  ye  really  ? 

(Rob  Roy,  in  his  Highland  dress,  unarmed,  appears  in  the 
back-ground,  and  listens,  rue.) 


ScBNB.  IV.  ROB    ROY.  39 

Capt.  T.  Now,  my  friend,  let  us  understand  each  other. 
You  have  confessed  yourself  a  spy,  and  should  string  up  to 
the  next  tree  ; — but,  come, — if  you  will  lead  me  and  a  small 
party  to  the  place  where  you  left  your  master,  you  shall  then 
go  about  your  business  ;  and  I'll  give  you  five  guineas  earnest 
to  boot 

Doug.  Oigb,  oigh  !  she  canna  do  tat, — she'd  rather  be 
hanged  ! 

Capt.  T.   Hanged  then  you  shall  be. 

Bailie    Hanged  !     My  conscience  ! 

Capt.  T.   Sergeant,  away  with  him. 

People    0  hone  !   0  hone  !  (Serjeant  seizes  Dougal.) 

Bong,  (perceiving  Rob.)  Hooly,  hooly — she'll  do  her 
honor's  bidding. 

Bailie.  Wull  ye?  Then  ye  deserve  to  be  hanged,  ye  Hie- 
land  deevil !  Awa'  wi'  him — awa'  wi'  him  !  he's  owre  lang 
leeving. 

Capt.  T.  Mr.  Jarvie — Mr.  Bailie  Jarvie,  its  my  belief, 
Sir,  when  your  own  turn  arrives,  you  will  not  be  in  such  a 
deevil  of  a  hurry. 

Bailie.  Me  ?  Mine  ?  I'm  a  Bailie — my  faither  was  a  Dea- 
con !     My  conscience  !  wad  ye  hang  a  magistrate  ? 

Doug.  She'll  no  seek  her  to  gang  ony  far'er  than  just  to 
let  you  see  whar  the  red  Gregarach  is? 

Cap)t.  T.  Not  a  step. 

Doug.  And  te  five  guineas  ? 

Capt.  T.  Here  they  are.  {takes  out  his  purse,  and  counts 
tlie money  into  Dougal's  hands.') — One. 

Doug.  Aon. 

Capt.  T   Two. 

Doug   Da. 

Capt.  T.  Three. 

Doug.  Tri. 

Capt.  T.  Four. 

Doug.  Ccithar.  (a  pause,  Capt.  T.  feeling  in  his  pvrse— 
Dougal  impatient.)  Coig  ! 

Capt.  T.  Coig !— what  the  devil  does  the  fellow  mean? 
Coig  !   (Bailie  shakes  his  head.) 

Doug,   (recollecting.)  H out.  teevil,  five,  five. 

Capt.   T.  Oh!  (gives  him  tlie  fifth  guinea.) 

Bailie.  The  Dougal  creature's  waur  than  I  thought  him — 
a  warldly  and  perfidious  creature  !  My  worthy  faither,  the 
Deacon— rest  be  wi'  him,  honest  man  ! — used  to  say  that 


40  ROB    ROY.  [Act.  II. 

goud  slew  raair  souls  than  the  sword  did  bodies: — and  it's 
true, — it's  true.  Oh,  Dougal !  Dougal  !  I'm  dune  wi'  ye 
now. 

Doug.   Haud  your  whisht,  Bailie — baud  your  whisht. 

Capt.  T.  Mr.  Osbaldistone,  and  you  Mr.  Bailie  Jarvie, 
if  loyal  and  peaceable  subjects,  will  not  regret  being  detained 
a  few  hours,  when  it  is  essential  to  the  king's  service  ; — if 
otherwise,  I  need  no  excuse  for  acting  according  to  my  duty. 
(to  Dougal.)  Now  observe,  if  you  attempt  to  deceive  me, 
you  die  by  my  hand  ! 

Bailie.  My  conscience ! 

Doug,   (aside.)   She's  no  just  sure  about  tat. 

Two  Sentimels  are  ]jlaced  on  each  side  of  the  Bailie,  who 
looks  at  them  with  anger  and  dismay : — the  same  is  done 
with  Francis.  Dougal  leads  the  march,  taking  an  oppor- 
tunity to  excJiange  a  glance  of  recognition  and  uruierstand- 
ing  with  Rob  Roy. 

Capt.  T.  March. 

Military  Music — they  march  from  c.  to  l.  tJien  up  r.  off 
r.u.e. — Music  dies  away  as  they  disappear 

Enter  Rob  Roy,  and  Rashleigh  Osbaldistone  from  behind 
tlte  Hut.  r. 

Rob.  (r.c.)  Who'd  have  thought  Dougal  had  so  much 
sense  under  that  ragged  red  now  of  his  ? 

Rash,  (l.c.)  Did  he  act  then  by  your  direction? 

Rob.  Troth  did  he; — and  well  acted  it  was! — he'll  lead 
the  Saxon  Captain  up  the  loch  ;  but  not  a  red-coat  of  them 
will  comeback  to  tell  what  they  landed  in. 

Rash.   And  their  prisoners — my  cousin,  and  the  Bailie? 

Rob.  They'll  be  safe  enough  while  Dougal's  with  tbem. 

Rash.  Perhaps  not.  [asifle.) 

Rob.  Fetch  my  dirk  and  claymore,  some  of  you.  I  must 
away. 

Rash,  {aside.)  If  Thornton  has  been  fool  enough  to  be 
led  into  an  ambuscade  : — this   opportunity  shall  not  be  lost. 

Rob.  My  dirk  and  claymore  !  I  must  attack  these  buz- 
zards in  the  rear.  [A  Boy  runs  into  tlie  inn. 

Rash.  A  word,  MacGregor.  You  told  me  your  whole 
force  was  disposed  to  watch  the  different  parties  sent  to  sur- 
prise you. 


Scene  III.  ROB   ROY.  41 

Rob.    I  did. 

Rash.  How  then  have  you  been  able  to  provide  so  sud 
denly  for  this  unexpected  party  of  Thornton's  1 

Rob.  Look  around  you. 

Rash.  Well. 

Rob.  Think  you  that  any  but  old  men,  women,  and  bairns, 
would  stand  idle  when  King  James's  cause  or  MacGregor's 
safety  needed  them  ?  Ten  determined  men  might  keep  the 
pass  of  Lochart  against  a  hundred  ; — and  I  sent  every  man 
forward  that  had  strength  to  wield  a  dirk  or  draw  a  trigger. 

Rash.  Indeed!    Move  on  then  ! — G-albraith  !  MacStuart  ! 

The  People  shout.  Rob  rans  to  different  entrances,  but  is 
met  by  Soldiers,  wJio  aim  at  him.  Rashleigh  seizes  the 
claymore  from  the  boy,  and  points  it  at  him,  r.  : — pause, 

Rob  is  bound. 

Rash,  (r.)  Now.  MacGregor,  we  meet  as  befits  us,  for  the 
first  time. 

Rob.  (c.)  But  not  the  last.  Oh!  villain!  villain!  vil- 
lian ! 

Rash.  I  should  better  have  deserved  that  reproach,  when, 
under  the  direction  of  an  able  tutor,  I  sought  to  introduce 
civil  war  into  the  bosom  of  a  peaceful  country  ;  but  I  have 
done  my  best  to  atone  for  my  errors.  Galbraith,  let  him  be 
mounted  on  the  same  horse  with  the  strongest  trooper  of 
your  squadron,  buckled  in  the  same  belt,  and  guarded  on 
every  side,  'till  he's  safe  in  the  garrison. 

Rob.  There's  a  day  of  reckoning  at  hand  ! — think  on't — 
dream  on't — there's  not  a  red  MacGregor  in  the  country,  but 
from  this  time  forward  marks  you  for  a  traitor's  doom. 
There's  a  day  to  come — you  have  not  yet  subdued  Rob  Roy  ! 

Rash.  Away. 

Military  Music — Rob  is  led  off 'l.,  looking  steadily  at  Rash- 
leigh. 


FINALE. 

Highlanders  and  Soldiers. 
Chorus.  Tramp,  tramp,  o'er  moss  and  fell 

High.        MacGregor's    )     fu„*;i 
Soldiers.    The  Robbers    f    Iouna» 


42  ROB    ROY.  {Act  ill. 

High.        MacGregor's    \    .         .  . 
Soldiers.    The  Traitors    ]     Dound ' 

And  wailing  clans  shall  hear  his  knell, 
Whose  battle  cry 
Was  "  win  or  die  !" 

SOLO. 

Kaity.         Guardian  spirits  of  the  brave, 

Freedom  grant,  the  chieftain  save. 

Chorus. — Tramp,  tramp,  &c. 

[Exith. 


END    OF    ACT    II. 


ACT  III. 

Scene  I. — TJie  Pass  of  Lochard. — Military  Music. 

Enter  Dougal,  Captain  Thornton.  Francis  Osraldistone, 
Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie,  Serjeant  and  Soldiers,  r. 

Capt.  T  (c.)  Halt!  Front !  (to  Dougal.)  Go  to  the 
froDt,  Sir.  (to  the  Bailie.)  Now,  Sir,  you  wish  to  speak  with 
me. 

Bailie,  (r.)  Yes,  Captain,  I  crave  that  liberty;  and  for 
the  sake  o'  a'  concerned,  I'm  sorry  you  didna  grant  it  a  full 
half  hour  gane  by  ;  for  it's  my  sincere  advice,  for  the  sake 
o'  ye're  friends  in  general,  and  mysel'  in  particular,  that  you 
mak  the  best  o'  your  way  back  again  to  a  place  o'  safety  : — 
if  you  do  not,  by  the  hand  o'  my  body  !  there  is  no  ane  of 
us  will  gang  baine  to  tell  the  tale. 

Capt.  T.   Make  yourself  easy,  Sir. 

Bailie.  Easy  !  I  canna  mak  mysel'  easy,  Sir.  My  con- 
science ! — he'll  hae  us  a'  butcher'd.   (aside.) 

Capt.  T.  As  you  are  friends  of  the  government,  gentle- 
men, you  will  be  bappy  to  learn  that  it  is  impossible  this 
gang  of  ruffians  can  escape  the  measures  now  taken  to  sup- 
press them.  Various  strong  parties  from  the  garrison  secure 
the  hills  in  different  parts  ;  three  hundred  Highlanders  are 
in  possession  of  the  upper,  while  Major  Galbraith  and  his 
troopers  occupy  the  lower  passes  of  this  country. 

Bailie.    Ah  !  that  sounds  a'  very  weel ;    but,  in   the  first 


Scene  I.  ROB   ROY.  43 

place,  there's  mair  brandy  than  brains  in  the  head  o'  that 
Major  Galbraith  ;  in  the  next,  I  wadna  hae  your  place  owre 
muckle  confidence  in  the  Hielanders — Corbies  winna  pick 
out  corbies'  een.  They  may  quarrel  araang  thenisel's.  and 
gie  ilk  ither  a  stab  wi'  a  dirk,  or  a  slash  wi'  a  claymore  now 
and  then  ;  but  tak  my  word  for't,  they  are  sure  to  join  in 
the  lang  run  against  a'  fo'ks  that  wear  breeks  on  their  hinner 
ends,  and  hae  got  purses  in  their  pockets. 

Capt.  T.  (l.c.  suddenly  turning  to Dougal.)  The  route 
you  have  led  us  is  dangerous,  and  therefore  suspicious. 

Doug.  Weel,  weel,  Dougal  dinna  mak  the  roads. 

Bailie    That's  very  true. 

Doug.  If  the  shentlemans  wad  gang  upon  better  gaits  they 
should  hae  staid  at  hames  at  Glasgo'. 

Bailie.  That  they  should,  indeed  ! 

Doug.  Besides,  your  honor  can  no  tink  to  tak  the  red 
Gregarach  without  some  tanger. 

Bailie.  The  Dougal  creature's  right  again, 

Capt.  T.  You  dog,  if  you  have  deceived  me.  I'll  blow  your 
brains  out  on  the  spot.  Your  caution,  Sir,  shall  not  go  un- 
regarded {to  the  Bailie.)  but  we  must  proceed. 

Bailie.  (rc.)  Proceed!  My  conscience!  there's  some- 
thing deevilisb  hard  in  being  obliged  to  risk  ane's  life  in  a 
quarrel  with  which  we  hae  nae  concern. 

Fran.  I  sincerely  grieve  that  your  kindness  for  me  has  led 
you  into  perils,  in  a  cause  which  is  now  so  hopeless. 

Bailie.  We  may  shake  hands  on't.  Your  troubles  will 
sune  be  owre,  and  I  shall  slumber  wi'  my  worthy  faither,  the 
Deacon, — rest  and  bless  him. 

Capt.  T.  Now,  my  lads,  forward  ! 

Helen  MacGreoor  apjiears  on  the  point  of  a  projecting 
rock,  with  a  claymore  and  target ;  a  brace  of  pistols  in  her 
belt,  and  a  mail's  bonnet  and  tartan  plaid,  r.,  3  e. 

Helen.  Hold  there  !  Stand  !  Tell  me  what  seek  you  in 
the  country  of  the  MacGregor  1 

Bailie  By  the  soul  o'  my  faither,  the  Deacon  !  it's  Rab's 
wife.  Helen  ! — there'l  be  broken  heads  amang  us  in  three 
minutes. 

Helen.  Answer  me  !  what  is  it  you  seek  '? 

Capt  T.  (l.)  The  outlaw'd  rebel  MacGregor  Campbell. 
Offer  no  vain  resistance,  and  assure  yourself  of  kind  treat- 
ment.    We  make  no  war  on  women. 


44  ROB    ROY.  [Act.  III. 

Helen.  Ay,  I  am  no  stranger  to  your  tender  mercies  !  Ye 
have  left  me  neither  name,  nor  fame  ; — my  mother's  bones 
will  shrink  in  their  grave  when  mine  are  laid  beside  them! 
Ye  have  left  me  neither  house  nor  hold — blanket  nor  bedding 
— cattle  to  feed,  or  flocks  to  clothe  us  : — you  have  takeu  from 
us  all — all ! — the  very  name  of  our  ancestors  you  have  taken 
from  us,  and  now  you  come  to  seek  our  lives  I 

Capt.  T,  I  seek  no  man's  life,  nor  would  I  rashly  lose  my 
own. 

Bailie.  Nor  I  mine  ! 

Capt.  T.  You  have,  therefore,  nothing  to  fear  ;  but  should 
there  be  any  among  you  hard}7  enough  to  offer  unavailing 
resistance,  their  own  bloods  be  on  their  heads.  A  hundred 
guineas  for  Rob  Roy  ! 

Helen,  Fire ! 

Capt.  T  Forward! 

Tlie  heads  of  the  Highlanders  appear  above  t/ie  rocJcs.  A  vol- 
ley is  fired  as  Helen  disappears.  The  first  party  of  soldiers 
led  on  by  the  Serjeant,  return  it,  and  rush  forward.  Tlie 
Bailie  at  the  first  discliar ge  starts  fonvard  in  great  alarm 
and  scro.mbles  up  a  rock.  Dougal  at  tlie  same  time  rushes 
on  with  Highlanders,  who  drive  the  soldiers  up  tlie  Pass ; 
tlien  re-enters,  and  ruslies  off  to  assist  t/ie  Bailie.  Tlie 
drums,  bugles,  and  bigpipes,  licard  incessantly.  As  the 
tumult  subsides  in  the  distance,  Francis   Osbaldistone 


Fran.  The  contest  has  terminated,  and,  I  fear,  fatally  for 
the  assailants.  But  where  is  my  poor  friend?  I  saw  him  in 
a  situation  of  imminent  danger,  but  I  trust  no  random  shot 
has  confirmed  his  melancholy  prophecy. 

Bailie,   (without.)  My  conscience  ! 

Enter  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie,  l.  2  e.,  greatly  disordered:  the 
skirts  of  his  coat  torn  off,  and  ragged,  his  wig  off,  slwiving 
his  bald  pate  ;  he  seizes  a  cocked  luxt  which  is  left  on  the 
Stage,  and  in  his  confusion  puts  it  on  his  Jiead 

Bailie.  My  conscience  ! 

Fran.  Somewhat  damaged,  I  perceive ;  but  I  heartily  re- 
joice the  case  is  no  worse. 

Bailie.  Thank  ye,  thank  ye — the  case  is  naething  to  brag 
o': — they  say  a  friend  sticks  as  close  as  a  blister — My  con- 


Scenk.  1.  ROB   ROY,  45 

science  !  I  wish  I  had  fand  it  sae.  ( putting  himself  to 
rights.)  When  1  cam'  up  to  this  cursed  country, — forgie  me 
for  swearing  !— on  nae  ane's  errand  but  yours,  Mr.  Osbal- 
distone,  d'ye  think  it  was  fair,  when  my  foot  slipped,  and  I 
hung  by  the  hurdies  to  the  branch  o'  a  ragged  thorn,  to  leave 
me  dangling,  like  the  sign  o:  the  Golden  Fleece  owre  the  door 
o'  a  mercers  shop  on  Luclgatehill  ?  D'ye  think  it  was  kind, 
I  say,  Sir.  to  let  me  be  shot  at  like  a  regimental  target,  set 
up  for  ball  practice,  and  never  ance  try  to  help  me  down, 
Sir? 

Fran.  My  good  Sir,  recollect  the  impossibility  of  my 
affording  you  any  relief,  without  assistance.  But  how  were 
you  able  to  extricate  yourself/ 

Bailie.  Me  extricate  !  My  conscience  !  I  should  hae 
hung  there,  like  Mahomet's  coffin,  till  the  day  o'  Pentecost, 
'gin  it  hadna  been  for  that  Dougal  creature.  He  cut  aff  the 
tails  o'  my  coat,  and  clappit  me  on  my  legs  again,  as  clean  as 
if  I  had  never  been  aff  them. 

Fran.  And  where  is  Dougal  now? 

Bailie.  Following  your  example,  Sir. 

Fran.  My  example  !     What's  that? 

Bailie.  Taking  deevilish  gude  care  o'  himsel'.  He  warned 
me  to  keep  clear  o'  that  amiable  leddy  we  saw  the  noo  ;  and 
troth  he's  right  there  again  ;  for  Kab  himsel's  frightened  for 
her,  when  her  bluid's  up. 

Fran.  Do  you  know  her  ? 

Bailie  A  deevilish  deal  owre  weel ;  but  it's  lang  since 
we've  met,  and  it's  odds  if  she'll  remember  me 

Two  or  three  Highlanders  r\  cshforward-4Dov gal  following. 

Highlanders]  Mair  Saxons  ! — whiz  a  brace  o'  ball  through 
'em. 

Dovg.  Haudl  haud  ! — they're  friends  t©  the  MacGregor. 

Bailie.  Yes  !  I  carena  wh  i  kens  it — I'A  a  MacGregor  ! — » 
We're  baith  MicGregors  ! 

Helen   MacGregor,  followed  by  Highlanders,  advances 
down  the  Pass,  r.v.e.,  to  a  March. 

Helen,  (r.c.)  Englishmen,  and  without  arms  ! — that's 
strange,  where  there  is  a  MaeGregor  to  hunt  and  slay  ! 

Bailie,  (r.)  {hesitating.)  I — I  am  very  happy — exceeding 
happy — to  hae  this  joyfu'  opportunity — ahem  ! — this  joyfu' 


46  ROB   ROT.  [Act  III 

occasion  o'  wishing  my  kinsman  Rab's  wife, — a — a — (she  looks 
at  him  with  great  contempt.) — a  very  good  morning. 

Helen,   (c.j  Is  it  so? 

Bailie.  Ye'll  maybe  hae  forgotten  me,  Mrs.  Helen  Camp- 
bell ;  but 

Helen.  How  !  Campbell !  My  foot's  upon  my  native  heath, 
and  my  name  is  MacGregor. 

Bailie.  Very  weel,  Mrs.  Camp — Mrs.  Rob  Roy — tutz — 
Mrs.  MacGregor,  I  beg  pardon  ;  I  would  just  crave  the  lib- 
erty o'  a  kinsman  to  salute  you. 

Helen.  What  fellow  art  thou,  that  dare  claim  kindred  with 
our  clan,  yet  neither  wear  our  dress  nor  speak  our  language  1 
"Who  are  you  that  have  the  tongue  and  habit  of  the  hound, 
yet  seek  to  shelter  with  the  deer  ? 

Bailie.  Why  my  mither,  Elspeth  Macfarlane,  was  the  wife 
o'  my  faither  Nicol  Jarvie  ; — she  was  the  daughter  o'  Parlane 
Macfarlane,  and  Maggy  Macfarlane  married  Duncan  M'Nab, 
wha  stood  in  the  fourth  degree 

Helen.  And  doth  the  stream  of  rushing  water  acknowledge 
any  relationship  with  the  portion  that's  withdrawn  from  it  for 
the  mean  domestic  use  of  those  who  dwell  upon  its  banks  ? 

Bailie.  Maybe  no ;  but  when  the  summer's  sun  has  dried 
up  the  brook,  and  left  naething  but  the  chucky-stanes,  it  wad 
fain  hae  that  portion  back  again.     I  ken  ye  baud  us  Glasco' 

bodies  unco  cheap ;    but,   Lord  help  ye,   Mrs.    Ca 

MacGrregor,  think  what  a  figure  I  should  cut  wi'  my  puir  auld 
hurdies  in  a  kilt,  and  hose  gartered  below  the  knee.  My 
conscience  !  I  wad  be  a  bonny  figure.  I  hae  been  very  ser- 
viceable to  Rab  as  I  am,  and  wad  be  mair  sae,  gin  he  wad 
leave  aff  his  evil  way,  and  no  disturb  the  king's  peace. 

Helen.  Yes — you,  and  such  as  you,  would  have  us  hewers 
of  wood,  and  drawers  of  water — you'd  have  us  find  cattle  for 
your  banquets,  and  subjects  for  your  laws  to  oppress  and 
trample  on  :  But  we  are  free — free  by  the  very  act  which 
has  left  us  neither  house  nor  hearth,  food  or  covering, — 
which  has  bereaved  us  of  all — all  but  vengeance  ! 

Bailie.  For  Heaven's  sake  dinna  speak  o'  vengeance  ! 

Helen.  I  will  speak  on't.  I  will  perform  it  too  : — I  will 
carry  on  this  day's  work  by  a  deed  that  shall  break  all  bonds 
between  MacGregor  and  the  Lowlanders  for  ever.  Here ! 
Allan,  Dougal,  bind  these  Sassenachs  neck  and  heels,  and 
throw  them  into  the  Highland  Loch  to  seek  for  their  High- 
land kingsfolk. 


[ScBKB  I  ROB    ROY.  47 

Bailie.  My  conscience ! 

Doug  (l.c.)  Oigh  !  to  be  surely,  her  pleasure  maun  be 
done. 

Bailie.  Ah !  but  Dougal !  ye  ken 

Doug.  Oh  ay  !  they  are  friends  o'  te  chief,  as  T  can  tes- 
tify, and  cam'  here  on  his  assurance  o'  welcome  and  safety. 

Helen  Dog !  were  I  to  order  you  to  tear  out  their  hearts, 
and  place  them  in  each  other's  breasts,  to  see  which  there 
could  best  plot  treason  against  the  MacGregor, — would  you 
dare  to  dispute  my  orders  !  {distant  voices  are  lieard,  sing- 
ing the  burthen  of  '-The  Lament.")  Hark!  hark!  what 
means  that  strain?  (an  emotion  of  alarm  in  the  Highland- 
ers. Helen  becomes  more  agitated  as  the  sounds  approach.) 
Why  is  this  ?     Why  a  lament  in  the  moment  of  victory  ? 

Enter  Robert,  Hamish,  and  a  party  of  Highlanders,  l. 

Robert,  Hamish,  where's  the  MacGregor?  Where's  your 
father?  (they  intimate  his  captivity.)  Ah!  a  prisoner — 
taken  prisoner  !  Then  MacGregor  dies  !  Cowards,  did  I 
nurse  you  for  this,  that  you  should  spare  your  blood  on  your 
father's  enemies — that  you  should  see  him  taken  prisoner, 
and  come  back  to  tell  it !  Ah  !  cowards — cowards  !  [sud- 
denly turning  to  Francis.)     Your  name  is  Osbaldistone  % 

Fran,   (r.)   It  is. 

Helen,   (c.)   Rashleigh?   {presenting  a  pistol.) 

Fran.  No  ;  Francis. 

Helen  That  word  has  saved  you.  (puts  the  pistol  in  her 
belt.) 

Fran.  Rashleigh  is  my  cousin  ;  but  for  what  cause  I  am 
Unable  to  divine,  he  is  my  bitterest  enemy. 

Helen.  I'll  tell  you  the  cause.  You  have  unconsciously 
thwarted  him  in  love  and  in  ambition.  He  robbed  your 
father's  house  of  government  papers,  to  aid  a  cause  which  he 
has  this  day  deserted,  and  by  his  treachery  has  my  husband 
fallen.  Dare  you  carry  a  message  to  these  blood-hounds, 
from  the  wife  of  your  friend  ? 

Fran.   I  am  ready  to  set  out  immediately 

Bailie.  So  am  I. 

Helen.  No,  you  must  remain  ;  I  have  further  occasion  for 
you.     Bring  forth  the  Saxon  Captain. 

Exit  Dougal,  l.u.e. 

Fran.  You  will  be  pleased  to  understand,  that  I  came 
into  this  country  on  your  husband's  invitation,  and  his  as- 


43  ROB  ROY.  f  Act  III. 

surance  of  aid  in  the  recovery  of  those  papers  f&n  have  just 
now  mentioned  :  and  my  friend,  Mr.  Jarvie,  accompanied 
me  on  the  same  errand. 

Bailie.  And  I  wish  your  friend  Mr.  Jarvie's  boots  had 
been  fu'  o'  boiling  water,  when  he  pat  them  on  for  sic  a  dam- 
nable purpose. 

Helen.  Sons,  you  may  read  your  father  in  what  thisyounjjj 
man  tells  you  ; — wise  only  when  the  bonnet's  on  his  head, 
and  the  claymore  is  in  his  hand.  He  never  exchanges  the 
tartan  for  the  broad  cloth,  but  he  runs  himself  into  the  mis- 
erable intrigues  of  these  Lowlanders,  and  becomes  again  their 
agent,  their  tool  their  slave  ! 

Enter  Captain  Thornton,  led  on  by  Dougal,  fyc,  l.u.e. 

But  enough  of  this.  Now,  mark  well  my  message.  If  they 
injure  a  hair  of  the  MacGrcgor's  head,  if  they  do  not  set 
him  at  liberty  within  the  space  of  twelve  hours,  I  will  send 
them  back  their  Saxon  Captain,  and  this  Glasgow  Bailie, 
each  bundled  in  a  plaid,  and  chopped  into  as  many  pieces  as 
there  are  checks  in  the  tartan 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  For  Heaven's  sake  dinna  send 
sican  a  message  ! 

Capt.  T.  (l.)  Give  the  commanding  officer  my  compli- 
ments, Sir, — Captain  Thornton's  compliments,  of  the  Royals. 
— tell  him  to  do  his  duty,  and  not  to  waste  a  thought  on  me. 
I  am  only  sorry  for  the  poor  fellows  that  have  fallen  into 
such  butcherly  hands.  If  I  have  been  deceived  by  these  art- 
ful savages,  I  know  how  to  die  for  my  error,  without  dis- 
gracing the  king  I  serve,  or  the  country  that  gave  me  birth  ! 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  whisht !  are  you  weary  o'  your  life  ! 
Oh!  Mr.  Osbaldistone  !  gie  my  service. — Bailie  Nicol  Jar- 
vie's service,  a  merchant  and  a  magistrate  in  the  Sautoaarket 
o'  Glasgow, — and  tell  them  there  are  some  folks  here  in  great 
tribulation,  and  (looking  at  Helen)  like  to  come  to  mair; 
and  the  best  thing  they  can  do  for  a'  parties,  is  just  to  let 
Bab  awa',  and  mak'  nae  mair  about  it. 

Helen.  Remember  my  injunctions ;  for  as  sure  as  that 
sun  shall  sink  beneath  the  mountain,  my  words  shall  be  ful- 
filled. If  I  wail,  others  shall  wail  with  me  ; — there's  not  a 
lady  in  the  Lennox,  but  shall  cry  the  Coronach  for  those  she 
will  be  loth  to  lose; — there's  not  a  farmer  but  shall  cry, 
"  Weel  awa',"  over  a  burnt  barn-yard,  and  an  empty  byre  : — 


SCENJB  I.  ROB    ROY.  49 

there's  not  a  laird  shall  lay  his  head  on  the  pillow  at  night, 
with  the  assurance  of  being  a  live  man  in  the  morning.  Con- 
duet  him  on  his  way.  (She  signs  to  one  of  the  Highlanders. 
The  Bailie. .unwilling  to  leave  Francis,  'is  following  him  off, 
when  a  Highander  suddenly  seizes  him  by  tlie  neck,  and 
throws  him  round  to  Ids  former  situation.  Exit  Francis 
andgui/lc  l.  Captain  Thornton  retires,  guarded,  l.u.e.) 
Now,  Allaster,  the  ;'  Lament !';  the  "  Lament  I" 

LAMENT. 

O  hone  a  rie  !  O  hone  a  rie  ! 
Before  the  sun  has  sunk  to  rest, 
The  turf  will  lie  upon  his  breast, 

O  hone  a  rie,  &c. 
The  pride  of  all  our  line  deplore, 
Brave  MacGregor  is  no  more, 

O  hone  a  rie,  &c. 
Hoy's  wife,  &c. 

S/ie  sinks  in  grief  upon  the  rock,  r.,  2  e..  in  front,  while  the 
"  Lament"  is  sung ; — at  the  close. 

Rob.   (l.  witlwut.)  Gregarach  ! 
Dong.  Rob  Roy  !  Rob  Roy  ! 

Rob  Roy  rushes  on  l.,  and  is  received  in  the  arms  of  Helen, 
with  a  wild  and  exulting  shout  from  the  Clan.  The  Bai- 
lie, exhilarated  to  the  higltest  pitch  of  joy,  from  the  deepest 
despondency. 

Helen.   MacGregor  ! — husband  ! — life  ! 

Bailie.  But  how  did  you  get  out  o'  their  clutches.  Rab? 

Rob.  Passing  the  ford  of  Avandow,  Ewan  of  Briglands 
cut  the  belt  that  bound  us ;  and  I  duck'd  and  dived  down 
the  river,  where  not  one  trooper  in  a  thousand  would  have 
dared  to  follow  me. 

Helen.  And  how  fell  you  within  their  grasp  1 

Rob.  By  him  who  has  placed  a  brand  where  he  swore  to 
plant  the  olive — Rashleigh  Osbaldistone.  But  were  he  the 
last  and  best  of  bis  name,  may  the  fiend  keep  me,  when  we 
next  meel,  if  this  good  blade  and  his  heart's  blood  are  not 
well  acquainted. 

Bailie.  Weel,  there  are  as  mony  slips  between  the  throat 
and  the  gailows,  as  there  are  between  the  cup  and  the  lip. 
Vm  like  a  dead  man  restored  to  life  !  (a  Boy  advances  with 


50  ROB    ROT.  [Act.  III. 

the  Bailie's  wig  and  cane,  which  he  joyfully  receives.)  Eh  ! 
ye're  a  braw  Hielander ;  ye'll  be  a  man  afore  your  mither. 
(turns  to  Rob  jocularly.)  Od,  Rab,  when  ye're  dividing  the 
spoils  o'  the  field,  if  ye  find  the  tail  o'  my  coat,  I'll  be  mucklo 
obliged  to  ye  for't. 

Rob.   (laughs.)  Drink,  lads,  drink,  and  be  blythe  ! 

Dougal  passes  about  liorn  cups  and  cans ;  tlie  music  strikes. 
The  Bailie  shakes  hands  with  Rob  Roy,  who  pledges  him 
vith  cordiality. 

CHORUS. 

Roy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch, 
Roy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch, 

We  can  be 

As  blythe  as  she, 
Dancing  now  the  Highland  Wallach; 
Drink  and  dance,  and  sing  wi'  glee, 

Joy  can  never  mak'  us  weary  ; 
Rob  is  frae  the  sodgers  free, 

And  Helen  she  has  found  her  deary  ! 

A  Highland  Dance  to  the  Bagpipes  by  Dougal,  and  High- 
land Lads  and  Lasses.  The  Bailie,  enraptured  at  his 
escape  from  danger,  joins  tlie  dancers.     Scene  closes  tliem  in. 

Scene  II. —  Wild  Scenery  in  tlie  neighborhood  of  Abe? foil. 
Enter  Francis  Osbaldistone,  l. 

Fran.  I  fear  I  have  dismissed  my  guide  too  early.  Every 
step  I  have  taken  since  his  departure  renders  my  way  to 
Aberfoil  more  intiicate.  The  twilight  darkens  rapidly,  and 
each  succeeding  moment  the  surrounding  objects  wear  a  dif- 
ferent feature,  changeful  as  my  fortunes. 

SONG. 

Air — "  Fee  him,  father,  fee  hirtu* 

O  !  life  is  like  a  summer  flower, 

Blooming  but  to  wither  ; 
O  love  is  like  an  April  hour, 

Tears  and  smiles  together. 
And  hope  is  but  a  vapor  light, 

The  lover's  worst  deceiver; 


Sesars  IX  ROB  roy.  61 

Before  him  now  it  dances  bright, 

And  now,  'tis  gone  for  ever  ! 
O  joy  is  but  a  passing  ray, 

Lovers'  hearts  beguiling ! 
A  gleam  that  cheers  a  winter's  day, 

Just  a  moment  smiling. 
Bui  though  in  hopeless  dark  despair, 

The  thread  of  life  may  sever, 
Yet  while  it  beats,  dear  maid,  I  swear, 

My  heart  is  thine  for  ever  ! 

Enter  Sir  Frederick  and  Diana  Vernon,  r.h.,  muffled  in 
Jwrsemeri's  cloaks. 

Sir  F.  Soho,  friend — whither  go  you  ? 

Fran.  To  Aberfoil :  can  you  direct  me  ? 

Sir  F.  Turn  the  projecting  rock  on  your  left,  and  the  vil- 
lage lies  before  you. 

Fran.  I  thank  you  :  in  return,  let  me  advise,  if  you  travel 
northward,  to  wait  till  the  passes  are  open ; — there  has  been 
some  disturbance  in  this  neighborhood. 

Sir  F.  We  have  heard  so  , — but  the  soldiers  had  the  worst, 
had  they  not  ? 

Fran.  Yes ;  but  in  another  quarter,  the  Outlaw,  called 
Bob  Roy,  has  been  captured. 

Sir  F.  Know  you  not  Rob  Roy  has  again  escaped  ? 

Fran.  Escaped  !  I  rejoice  to  hear  it !  That  circum- 
stance will  at  once  secure  a  friend  of  mine  from  danger,  and 
prevent  my  being  'detained  by  a  commission  with  which  I 
was  entrusted  in  his  behalf. 

Sir  F.  Who  are  you?     What  is  your  name? 

Fran.  My  name  can  be  of  little  conseouence  to  an  utter 
stranger. 

Diana.  Mr.  Francis  Osbaldistone  should  not  sing  his 
favorite  airs,  when  he  wishes  to  remain  concealed. 

Fran.  Miss  Vernon  !  at  such  an  hour,  in  such  a  lawless 
country. 

Sir  F.  Now,  Diana,  give  your  cousin  his  property,  and 
waste  no  further  time. 

Dia?ia.  But  one  moment,  Sir ;  but  one  moment,  to  say 
farewell. 

Sir  F   Remember,  'tis  your  last 

[Exit  l. 

Fran.   Our  last ! 

Diana.  Yes.  dear  Frank  ! — there  is  a  gulph  between  us — 


62  ROB    ROT.  [Act.  in. 

a  gulph  of  absolute  perdition.  Where  we  go,  you  must  not 
follow.  What  we  do,  you  must  not  share  in  Take  from  my 
hand  these  eventful  papers  ; — poor  Scotland  has  lost  her 
freedom,  but  your  father's  credit  will  at  least  be  restored. 

Fran.  And  is  there  no  way  in  which  I  may  be  allowed  to 
show  my  gratitude  ? 

Diana.  Alas,  none  !     Adieu  i  be  happy  ! 

SONG. 

Air.— «  The  Lass  of  Patie's  Mill:1 

Forlorn  and  broken-hearted 

1  weep  ray  last  adit-u  ! 
And  sigh  o'er  joys  departed, 

That  time  can  ne'er  renew. 

Farewell,  my  love  !  I  leave  thee, 

For  some  tar  distant  shore  ; 
Let  no  Jond  hope  deceive  thee,-— 

We  part  to  meet  no  mure  ! 

Tho'  grief  may  long  oppress  thee, 

Yuur  love  I'll  ne'er  resign; 

My  laest  sis;h  shall  bless  thee, 

My  last  sad  tear  be  thine! 

Farewell,  my  love,  &c. 

[Exeunt  Diana,  l.,  Francis,  r. 

Scene  III. — Interior  of  Jean  MacAlpin'tfs  Change  House. 

Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie  discovered  at  tlie  table. 

Bailie.  Weel,  after  the  fatigue  it  has  been  my  lot  to  suffer 
this  blessed  day,  a  cup  o'  brandy  does  nae  barm.  My  cousin 
Rah  is  bringing  up  his  family  to  an  ill  end  ;  and  as  for  my 
cousin  Helen — My  conscience  !  [drinks.)  Thank  Heaven,  I 
shall  soon  leave  this  dolefu'  country. 

Enter  Ron  Roy,  l.d.f. — He  sits  ctoivn  ojyositc  the  Bailie. 

Rab  again  ! — why,  the  man's  like  a  bogle,  or  a  ghaist. 

Rob.  (l)  'Twas  business  that  made  me  follow  you  so 
quickly.  Bailie,  and  business  waits  for  no  man  ;  there  is  the 
two  hundred  pounds  I  promised  you — Never  say  a  High- 
lander belied  his  word. 

Bailie,  (r.)  Ye're  an  honest  man,  Rab ;  that  is,  ye've  a  sort 


ficSWK  II.  ROB    ROY.  63 

o'  honesty, — a  kind  o* — Rab,  ye're  an  honest  rogue. 

Rob.  Come,  come,  take  your  money,  and  your  cup,  and  say 
no  more  about  it. 

Bailie.  Weel,  here's  your  health,  and  my  cousin  Helen's 
health,  and  your  twa  hopefu'  sons,  of  whom  mair  anon. 
(drinks.)  As  to  Helen,  her  reception  o'  me  this  blessed  day 
was  the  north  side  o'  friendly,  that  I  maun  say. 

Rob.  Say  nothing  of  her,  but  what  is  befitting  a  friend  to 
say.  and  her  husband  to  hear. 

Bailie.  Weel,  weel,  we'll  let  that  flee  stick  to  the  wa' ;  but 
I  maun  tell  you,  that  your  sons  are  as  ignorant  as  the  very 
cattle  you  used  to  drive  to  market. 

Rob.  And  where  was  I  to  get  them  teachers  ?  Would  you 
have  me  put  ou  the  College-gate  of  Glasgow, — '•'  Wanted,  a 
Tutor  for  the  Children  of  Rob  Roy,  the  Outlaw?" 

Bailie.  No  exactly ;  that  cock  wudna  fecht  j — but  you 
might  hae  taught  them  something. 

Rob.  I  have  taught  them  something.  Hamish  can  bring 
down  a  black-cock  on  the  wing,  with  a  single  bullet ;  and  his 
brother  drive  a  dirk  through  a  two-inch  deal  board. 

Bailie.  Sae  muckle  the  waur,  Rab — sae  rauckle  the  waur. 
But  I  hae  been  thinking,  Rab,  to  tak'  them  hame  to  the 
Saut  market,  and  mak'  them  'prentices ;  (Rob  starts  angrily.) 
— and  I'll  gie  ye  back  your  twa  hundred  pound  for  the  sat- 
isfaction. 

Rob.  What !  a  hundred  thousand  deevils ! — the  sons  of 
MacGregor,  weavers  !  I'd  sooner  see  every  loom  in  Glasgow, 
beams,  traddles,  and  shuttles,  burnt  in  hell-fire ! 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  that  wad  be  a  bleeze  !  Weel,  weel, 
you  needna  grip  your  dirk,  as  though  you  were  gaun  to  drive 
it  through  me  ;  I'm  no  a  twa-inch  deal  board. 

Rob.  Give  me  your  hand.  You  mean  well,  but  you  press 
over  hard  on  my  temper.  Consider  what  I  have  been,  and 
what  I  am  become  ;  above  all.  consider  the  cause  that  has 
forced  me  to  become  what  I  am. 

Enter  Francis  Osbaldistone,  l.d.f. 

Fran.  Ah  !  MacGregor  and  Mr.  Jarvie. — both  safe ! 

Rob.  Ay,  and  like  to  keep  so  ;  the  worst  hour  is  past. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  I  but  it  has  left  plenty  o'  sair  banes 
ahint  it ;  but  a  man  mustna  expect  to  carry  the  comforts  o' 
the  Sautmarket  at  his  tail,  when  he  gangs  visiting  his  Hie- 
land  kinsfolk. 


64  rob    ROT.  [Act.  m. 

Rob.  (aside  to  Francis.)  Your  father  is  now  in  Glasgow; 
send  the  packet  to  him,  by  Mr.  Jarvie. 

Fran.  My  father  !     How  knew  you  this  ? 

Rob.  Dispatch  your  business,  and  follow  me.  You  shall 
see  the  moonlight  on  the  mountain — you  shall  hear 

Bailie.   What? 

Rob.  The  night  bird  scream ! — will  you  listen  to  her 
bodings? — Now  the  mist  is  on  the  brae,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
Gregarach  walks  ! — but  I  forget ! — You  mean  kindly.  Fare- 
well, cousin — farewell,  (shakes  hands  with  tlie  Bailie,  who 
is  much  affected.  To  Francis.)  Follow  me  towards  the 
Loch  ;  I  would  speak  with  you  in  private,  (as  Rob  is  about 
to  exit,  the  Bailie  goes  up  to  himi  and  offers  him  the  ])urse, 
which  lie  rejects.) 

Rob.  Keep  your  trash,  Bailie,  keep  your  trash. 

[Exit,  D.F. 

Bailie.  What  did  Rab  say  to  ye  ? 

Fran.   Something  concerning  these  papers. 

Bailie.  Ey  ! — papers !  Why,  by  the  son  o'  my  faither, 
Rab  is  an  honest — Stay  !  (Francis  tears  open  the  packet  ) 
Here's  Mr  Owen's  list, — lk  Caich'em  and  Whittington,  706," 
delightfu' ! — •'  Pollock  and  Pcelman,  2 — 8 — 7," — exact  !  — 
K  Grubb  and  Grinder," — right  to  a  fraction  !  Lord  save  us  ! 
what  s  this  ?  u  Will  o'  Sir  Hildebrand  Osbaldistone,  in 
favor  o'  his  nephew.  Francis  !"     My  conscience  ! 

Fran.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Bailie.   As  fac  as  death  ! 

ftran.  This,  then,  was  the  cause  of  Rashleigh's  unrelent- 
ing hatred. 

Bailie.  Xae  matter — we've  got  the  stuff,  praise  be  blest  1 
we've  got  the  stuff ' 

Fran.  Mr.  Jarvie,  I  entrust  these  documents  to  your  care, 
as,  henceforward,  the  sole  agent  of  my  father's  concerns  in 
Scotland.     Take  some  repose,  and  .c.et  forward  early. 

Bailie  Sole  agent! — Mr.  Osbaldistone.  {bowing.)  I'll 
not  affect  to  disclaim  having  done  my  best  to  deserve  the  fa- 
vors o'  my  frien's  in  Crane  Alley.  London  ;  or  that  the  re- 
compence  will  not  be  highly  advantageous  to  Nicol  Jarvie, 
merchant  and  magistrate,  in  the  Sautmarket  o'  Glasgow  : — 
But,  Mr.  Osbaldistone,  I  trust  you'll  say  as  little  as  need  be 
o'  our  pranks  here  amang  the  hills.  If  the  members  o'  tho 
Town  Council  were  to  ken  that  ane  o'  their  body  was  seen 
feghting  wi'  a  red  bet  poker,  or  dangling  like  an  auld  scare- 


Scxxs  IV.  ROB    ROT.  65 

craw  o'er  a  potatoe-garden. — my  conscience  !  they  wudna  be 
weel  pleased.  If  Bailie  Graham  was  to  hear  o't,  it  wad  be  a 
sair  hair  in  my  neck  as  lang  as  I  leeve. 

Fran.  Fear  nothing,  Sir,  on  that  score.  Your  kindness 
deserves,  and  shall  receive  every  expression  of  the  most  grate- 
ful sentiments ;  but  let  me  beg  of  you  to  lose  no  time  in  re- 
turning home. 

Bailie.  That  you  may  swear  ;  and  the  next  time  you  catch 
me  out  o'  hearing  o'  St.  Mungo's  bells  again,  may  Rab  Roy 
sleep  wi'  his  ancestors,  and  me  wi'  his  widow!  Eh!  My 
conscience ! 

{Exeunt  Bailie,  r.;  Francis,  d.f. 

Scene  IV. — Rob  Roifs  Cave,  and    View  of  Loch  Lomond 
by  Moonlight. 

Enter  Rob  Roy  and  Francis  Osbaldistone,  l.u.e. 

Rob.  Let  me  now  speak  of  my  own  concerns  :  my  kinsman 
said  something  of  my  boys,  that  sticks  in  my  heart,  and 
maddens  in  my  brain  ; — 'twas  truth  he  spoke,  yet  L  dared  not 
listen  to  it : — 'twas  fair  he  offered,  yet  I  spurned  that  offer 
from  very  pride.  My  poor  bairns  !  I'm  vexed  when  I  think 
they  must  lead  their  father's  life. 

Fran.  Is  there  no  way  for  amending  such  a  life,  and  thereby 
affording  them  on  honorable  chance  of 

Rob.  You  speak  like  a  boy !  Think  you  that  the  old 
gnarled  oak  can  be  twisted  like  the  green  sapling?  Think 
you  I  can  forget  being  branded  as  an  outlaw, — stigmatised 
as  a  traitor, — a  price  set  upon  my  head,  and  my  wife  and 
family  treated  as  the  dam  and  cubs  of  a  wolf?  The  very 
name,  which  came  to  me  from  a  long  and  noble  line  of  mar- 
tial ancestors,  denounced,  as  if  it  were  a  spell  to  conjure  up 
the  devil ! 

Fran.  Rely  on  it,  the  proscription  of  your  name  and  fam- 
ily is  considered  by  the  English  as  a  most  cruel  and  arbitrary 
law. 

Rob.  Still  is  proscribed  ; — and  they  shall  hear  of  my  ven- 
geance, that  would  scorn  to  listen  to  the  story  of  my  wrongs  ; 
—they  shall  find  the  name  of  MacGregor  is  a  spell  to  raise 
the  wild  devil  withal.  Ah,  lleav'n  help  me  !  I  found  deso- 
lation where  I  had  left  plenty — I  looked  east,  west,  north, 
and  south,  and  saw  neither  hold  nor  hope,  shed  nor  shelter ; 


66  ROB     ROY.  [Act.  III. 

so  I  e'en  pulled  the  bonnet  o'er  my  brow,  buckled  the  broad- 
sword to  my  side,  took  to  the  mountain  and  the  glen, — and 
became  a  broken  man  !  But  why  do  I  speak  of  this  1  'Tis 
of  my  children,  of  my  poor  bairns,  I  have  thought,  and  the 
thought  will  not  leave  me. 

Fran,  Might  they  not,  with  some  assistance,  find  an  hon- 
orable resource  in  foreign  service  ?  If  such  be  your  wish, 
depend  on  its  being  gratified. 

Rob.  (stretching  one  hand  to  him,  and  passing  the  other 
across  his  eyes)  I  thank  you — I  thank  you.  I  could  not 
have  believed  that  mortal  man  would  again  have  seen  a  tear 
in  MacGregor's  eye.  We'll  speak  of  this  hereafter ; — we'll 
talk  of  it  to  Helen : — but  I  cannot  well  spare  my  boys  yet : 
— the  heather  is  on  fire. 

Fran.   Heather  on  fire  !     I  do  not  understand  you. 

Rob.  Rashlcigh  has  set  the  torch  ; — let  them  that  can 
prevent  the  blaze,  (bagpipes  without.)  Ah!  they  come; — 
then  all's  well. 

Fran.  I  comprehend,  {seeing  the  approach  of  the  High- 
landers, icho  enter,  Hamish  and  Robert  directing  their 
movements. 

Rob.  (c.)  Have  you  seen  Diana  and  Sir  Frederick  on  their 
way? 

Helen,  (r.c.)  I  have.  Stranger,  you  came  to  our  unhappy 
country  when  our  bloods  were  chafed,  and  our  hands  were 
red  ; — excuse  the  rudeness  that  gave  so  rough  a  welcome,  and 
lay  it  on  the  evil  times,  not  upon  us. 

Rob.  Helen,  our  friend  has  spoken  kindly,  and  proffered 
nobly, — our  boys — our  children 

Helen.  I  understand  ; — but  no.  no  ;  this  is  not  the  time  ; 
besides,  I — no — no — I  will  not — cannot  part  from  them. 

Fran,  (r.)  Your  separation  is  not  required; — leave  the 
country  with  them. 

Helen.  Quit  the  land  of  my  sires ! — never!  Wild  as  we 
live,  and  hopeless,  the  world  has  not  a  scene  that  could  con- 
sole me  for  the  loss  of  these  rude  rocks  and  glens,  where  the 
remembrance  of  our  wrongs  is  ever  sweetened  by  the  recol- 
lection of  our  revenge. 

Fra?i.   MacGregor? 

Rob.  She  says  truly.  'Twas  a  vain  project.  We  cannot 
follow  them — we  cannot  part  with  the  last  ties  that  render 
life  endurable.  Were  1  to  lose  sight  of  my  native  hills,  my 
heart  would  pink,  and  my  arm  would  shrink  like  fern   i'   the 


SCBNE  IV.  ROB    ROY.  57 

winter's  frost.  No,  Helen,  no — the  heather  we  have  trode 
on  while  living,  shall  sweetly  bloom  over  us  when  dead ! 
(Helen  throws  herself  into  his  arms  ) 

Fran.  I  grieve  that  my  opportunity  of  serving  those  who 
have  so  greatly  befriended  me  is  incompatible  with  their 
prospects  and  desires. 

Rob.  Farewell ! — the  best  wish  MacGregor  can  give  his 
friend  is,  that  he  moy  see  him  no  more. 

Helen.  A  mother's  blessing,  for  the  only  kindness  shown 
for  years  to  the  blood  of  MacGregor,  be  upon  you !  Now 
farewell !     Forget  me  and  mine,  for  ever  ! 

Fran.  Forget !     Impossible. 

Helen.  All  may  be  forgotten,  but  the  sense  of  dishonor, 
and  the  desire  of  vengeance. 

Rob.  No  more  : — strike  !  (March. — TJie  Highlanders 
file  through  t/ie  mouth  of  the  cave.  Robert  and  Hamjsh 
stretch  forth  t/icir  hands  to  Francis,  as  they  pass  in  the  march. 
Helen  and  Rob  Rob  each  take  'cave  of  him  with  cordiality 
and  regret,  and  exeunt  through  t/ie  cave.) 

Fran.  What  a  wayward  way  is  mine  !  My  father's  peace 
of  mind  is  happily  restored,  but  mine,  with  Diana,  is  lost 
for  ever. 

Rashleigh  Osbaldistone  appears  at  the  back  of  tlie  Cave, 
l.,  and  seeing  Frank,  conceals  himself  r. 

What  noise  ?  surely  I  heard — No,  they  have  left  me.  {the 
boats  are  seen  jiassing  tlie  Loch  with  the  Highlanders.) 
They  are  passing  the  Loch :    I  shall  see  them  no  more. 

Enter  Sir  Frederick  and  Diana  Vernon,  greatly  alarmed, 
from  l.u.e. 

Diana.  Gone!  MacGregor— -Helen-— our  friends  gone ! 

Sir  F.   Embarked  already  !     Then  my  course  is  ended. 

Fran.   Amazement  !     Diana  Vernon,  and 

Diana.  Her  father—her  unhappy,  her  wretched  father! 
Oh  Frank  !  we  are  beset  by  enemies  on  every-side :  the  only 
path  by  which  we  could  escape  is  guarded. 

Fran.   No  danger  shall  befall  you  here. 

Sir  F.  Do  not  involve  yourself  in  my  fate  ; — protect  my 
child,  but  leave  me  to  suffer.  I  am  familiar  with  danger 
and  prepared  to  meet  it. 

Rashleigh  Osbaldistone  advances,  c. 

Rash.  Meet  it  then,  here. 


58  ROB    ROT.  (ACTlIL 

All.  Rashleigh  !  (Diana  turns  from  him,  to  her  father's 
arms. ) 

Rash.  Ay,  I  come  to  repay  the  various  obligations  con- 
ferred on  me  by  my  friends,  (he  beckons  on  Soldiers.)  Ap- 
prehend Sir  Frederick  Vernon,  an  attainted  traitor;  Diana 
Vernon,  and  Francis  Osbaldistone,  aiders  and  abettors  of 
treason. 

Fran,  (l.c.)  Rashleigh,  thou  art  too  great  a  villain  for 
words  to  speak  thee. 

Rash.  I  can  forgive  your  spleen,  my  gentle  cousin  ; — it  is 
hard  to  lose  an  estate  and  a  mistress  in  one  night.  Tako 
charge  of  your  prisoners.  If  my  conduct  displeases  you, 
lady,  you  may  thank  your  minion  there. 

Fran.  I  never  gave  you  cause. 

Rash.  'Tis  false  !  In  love, — in  ambition, — in  the  paths 
of  interest,  you  have  crossed  and  blighted  mc  at  every  turn. 
I. was  born  to  be  the  honor  of  my  father's  house- -I  have 
been  its  destruction  and  disgrace  ; — my  very  patrimony  has 
become  yours : — but  if  you  ever  live  to  possess  it,  the  death 
curse  of  him  you  have  thus  injured,  shall  stick  to  it !  {goes 
to  R.) 

Rob.  {without. )  Gregarach  ! 

Rash,  (starts.)  Ah! 

Rob  Roy  darts  in  and  confronts  Rashleigh.  Highland- 
ers, led  by  Dougal,  appear  at  tJie  mouth  of  tlie  cave,  and 
overpower  the  Soldiers. 

Rob.  Now  ask  mercy  for  your  soul's  sake. 

Rash.  Never!  (standing  on  his  guard .) 

Rob.  Claymore,  then,  (short  and  rapid  combat; — Rash- 
lei  gu  falls,  and  is  caught  by  Dougal.)  Die,  traitor,  in  your 
treason  !  (Rashleigh  is  carried  off  by  Dougal.  Highland 
march.) 

Fnter  Helen  MacGregor,  and  the  Clan,  male  and  female. 
— Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie  runs  on,  confused,  from  l.u.e. 

Bailie.  My  conscience  !  what's  here  to  do  !  I  fear  I've 
lost  my  way. 

Fran.  Mr.  Jarvie  !  I  thought  you  were  on  the  road  to 
Glasgow. 

Bailie.  I  thought  sae  too;  but,  troth,  the  brandy  has  de- 
ceived me.  My  conscience  !  to  think  o'  a  magistrate  losing 
his  head,  and  losing  his  horse  too  !     A  little  man,  ca'd  Job- 


[ScBNKlV.  ROB    ROT.  69 

son,  dismounted  me  just  now  in  a  trice,  and  gallop'd  aff,  as 
though  my  cousin  Helen  hersel'  was  at  his — (sees  Helen.) — 
My  conscience  ! 

Sir  F.  Brave  Highlander  !  you  have  saved  more  than  my 
life — you  have  preserved  my  honor  !  You,  young  man,  (to 
Fran.)  have  proved  yourself  worthy  of  my  child,  and  to  you 
I  give  her.  But  whence  this  unexpected  aid?  I  surely  saw 
the  boats  depart    (to  Rob.) 

Rob.  With  half  my  band — no  more.  Dougal  overheard, 
and  fortunately  apprised  me  of  Rashleigh's  intention,  and  I 
kept  up  the  appearance  which  decoyed  the  villain  to  his  own 
snare. 

Helen,  (to  Fran.)  By  Sir  Frederick  Vernon's  means  your 
father's  house  has  been  preserved  ;  that  consideration  must 
induce  his  honorable  mind  to  confirm  the  gift  you  prize,  and 
endeavor  to  obtain  from  the  government  a  remission  of  tho 
law  in  favor  of  a  noble  enemy. 

Rob.  We  shall  rejoice  in  your  happiness,  though  we  may 
not  share  it.  If,  in  such  moments,  you  ever  think  upon 
MacGregor,  think  kindly  of  him  ;  and  when  you  cast  a  look 
towards  poor  old  Scotland,  do  not  forget  Rob  Roy. 

FINALE. 

Air. — "  Duncan  Gray  cam?  here  to  woo." 

Pardon  now  the  bold  Outlaw, 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  I 
Grant  him  mercy,  gentles  a', 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 
Let  your  hands  and  hearts  agree, 
Set  the  Highland  Laddie  tree — 
Mak'  us  sing  wi'  muckle  glee, 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 

Fran.     Long  the  State  has  doom'd  his  fa', 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 
Still  he  spurn'd  the  hatefu'  law, 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 
Scots  can  for  their  country  die, 
Ne'er  from  Britain's  foes  they  flee — 
A'  that's  past  forget— forgie, 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 

Chorus,— Let  your  hands^  &c. 

Diana.    Scotland's  fear,  and  Scotland's  pride, 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 
Vour  award  must  now  abide, 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  0 1 


ROB     ROT.  (Act.  m. 

Long  your  favors  hae  been  mine, 
Favors  I  will  ne'er  resign — 
Welcome  then,  for  a u Id  langsyne, 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  O  ! 
._      ^  Chorus, — Let  your  hands,  &c. 

K.  L. 

Highlanders.  Highlanders. 

Bailie,  Sir  F,  Diana,  Francis,  Rob,  Helen,  Robert,  Hamish, 

Dougal. 


FINIS 


